


Shipwrecked by the laughter of Gods

by cyndrarae



Series: Shipwrecked verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Bottom Jared, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physical Disability, Prostitution, Top Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndrarae/pseuds/cyndrarae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared Padalecki had his plan all carefully laid out - Fuck the guy, keep him facing the cameras, then collect the money and run like hell. It was a simple job really. He wasn't too worried. And they were going to pay him so well...<br/>Jensen Ackles prided himself for his excellent judgment of truth and character. It had served him well so far, and he had no reasons to doubt otherwise. So when Jensen meets Jared, he thinks he has him all figured out...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The narration is not time-linear. There are flashback snippets interspersed with the main flow of the story and those scenes are all-dialog. Ages have been changed slightly to justify the back-stories. The Cohens are OCs. Written for bigbang '08, just porting all my stuff from LJ over to here.

**Part One**   
  


 

***************

_"Whoever undertakes to set himself as the judge of all truth and knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of gods"_

***************

 

They put him up at the Renaissance Mayflower. It’s the largest luxury hotel in Washington DC - exclusive and sophisticated, proud and eminent member of the Historic Hotels of America, second only to the White House in all of DC.

Jared’s just glad the sheets are clean, and the beds don’t creak.

He sits at the bar downing his second martini and scans his surroundings. Everything’s so neat and overstated, and expensive and shiny. Someone plays the piano in the distance, the sound reverberating soothingly in every direction. The air conditioning is quite and perfect, the bar smells of nothing, nothing at all. Maybe it’s the way the rich folks prefer it, no matter what those Airwick beasties would have you believe.

Jared tucks his feet behind that metal rod thingie that serves as a footrest on the barstool, puts his elbows on the glossy granite counter before him and leans over his drink. The bartender is slightly scruffy for a place like this, he thinks. Then again what does he know? At least the guy’s friendly, Steve something, smiles at him whenever Jared catches his eye. Not an asshole like the bald concierge outside.

Sucks to know this isn’t going to last. His one-off stint in this luxurious decadence will end soon as the job gets done. Then he’d go back to his old, decrepit one-bedroom in Jersey City where the toilet clogs up every week, and the heating doesn’t work and he can touch the ceiling with his elbow, and the water from kitchen taps is brown in color. At least it’s his. At least he doesn’t need to share it with anyone else.

Except the roaches, of course. Can’t forget the roaches.

He grabs more hors d'oeuvres from a passing waiter and stuffs his mouth surreptitiously. The credit card they gave him should take care of all his expenses. Too bad he still can’t try everything on the menu, not the high-carb stuff, not the desserts. And especially not the steaks. 

His job simply wouldn’t allow it. 

He wears a brown sports jacket over a plain white t-shirt and fashionably faded blue jeans, all brand new. All well known, quality brands, the kind you’d never find at any secondhand sales or discount stores. Even the boxer briefs are Ralph Lauren, brand new, and he bought like a hundred of those. They can take it out of his final payment if they want. 

Looks down at his new Tag Heuer, two minutes to seven. His mark should be in any moment now. 

Like clockwork, all week. 

Guy hits the hotel gym at six in the morning, every morning. Leaves at eight sharp in a chauffeur-driven town car, spends the day at his… whatever, some conference at the International Center for Journalists, gets back after dark at seven, sharp-ish. He then walks up to the bar, orders a scotch, single malt. Doesn’t seem to have a favorite brand, tries just about anything and everything. Chats up the bartender once in a while but mostly he keeps his back to the world, staring out the full-length glass windows for exactly, okay, approximately thirty minutes. Then he retreats to his luxury suite and doesn’t come out all night. Orders room service for dinner at some point, maybe.

Boring kinda guy. 

Jared shrugs to himself. Whatever. Guess when you’re that rich, boring is  _chic_. 

His stomach grumbles. His salad was limp and boring (not chic) and he craves meat and cheese like a Bedouin might crave the rain, maybe. Who knows, he’s only read about them in, like, recycled paperbacks that he can sell back for a buck each. But Jared can’t eat now, not yet. He pleads to and curses at nothing and no one under his breath, looks at his watch again and wonders where the man is.

He wants this night to be over. But it can’t be over until it begins first. And it needs to begin with this guy. Jared wishes again for him to just turn up already, and at last after a few more minutes of excruciating wait, his wish is granted.

Jensen Ackles - Chairman and CEO of Achilles News Corporation - walks into the bar, and every pair of eyes in the house turns to look at him. 

Jared turns away instead to glare at his drink, let the man make himself comfortable like he’s done every evening for the past five days. Jared’s been waiting for an opportunity, an opening, all week. But for one reason or another, it’s just never worked out. This isn’t exactly his forte. He’s not  _supposed_  to do dates you know. But there can be no more excuses if he wants to get paid. Tonight’s his last chance ever and if he can’t do it today, well… 

Ackles leaves Washington DC tomorrow. 

 

*************  
*************

 

“Here, everything you’ll ever need to know about Ackles is in this dossier. Go ahead, open it.”

“…”

“Look, this here is the big stuff about his family, this is a picture of his ex-wife… oh yeah… that is supermodel Danneel Harris. Here are the colleges he went to. All his likes and dislikes, his favorite color, favorite food, favorite football team. But be careful how you use this information, he’s a very smart man. One slip-up and he’ll know you’ve researched him. Don’t act suspicious, don’t let him  _get_  suspicious. Act cool, like you belong there. You with me, kid?”

“Y-Yeah. Okay.”

“Now for your cover story, you’re a senior at Carnegie Mellon. Pick a major. Any subject you were good at? Any subject you passed?”

“Ca-Carnegie Mellon?”

“It’s a university in Pittsburgh. The only college Ackles admires but doesn't have any friends or contacts at. There’s stuff in here about the place, cram it up. You can’t be your stupid dumb self while talking to him or he’d drop you like a bad habit. You need to look and sound confident, and like you come from a decent all-American family. Can you do that?”

“I can try.”

“Here’s your credit card, it does have a limit, do  _not_  max it out. Buy yourself some nice stuff before you get there. I suppose you shouldn’t have a problem picking out clothes. Your kind is supposed to have a  _sense_  about shit like that, yeah?”

“…”

“Please tell me you graduated from high school at least?”

“…”

“Jesus. I can’t believe out of all the guys…! Fine, no problem, it’s cool. Just keep your mouth shut and let him do all the talking, alright?

“Okay.”

 

***************  
***************

 

Jared watches as the older man shrugs out of his black formal jacket and loosens his lavender tie. Older by seven years, Jared read in the dossier, twenty-nine to be precise. Not the youngest billionaire CEO in the country, Jared squints as he tries to recall. No, that would be that Facebook guy. But with twelve successful magazines, five TV channels and a newly acquired internet portal, this guy’s hot. 

Untouchable. 

Jared gulps. He still has no idea why he was chosen for this job. All he knows is that they’ve promised to pay him a shitload if it works. And even if it doesn’t, what’s he got to lose anyway? He got to fly, for the very first time in his life. Not that he liked it very much, but hey, it’s an experience. And he got to visit Washington DC and stay at a fucking five star hotel, also for the first and probably the only time in his life. He got to buy new clothes and stuff for himself, all free of charge. All beyond his means. 

Untouchable his ass. Jared’s got a job to do, and he intends to do it.

“So you’re leaving tomorrow morning, Mr. Ackles?”

“Yeah, and I told you to call me Jensen, Steve.”

The bartender smiles, nods graciously. “Okay, Jensen.”

Jared sighs and braces himself. Better move in now, before the fucking bartender does. 

Turns to his left, Ackles is seated only three bar stools away. There’s nobody in between. Ackles turns towards him briefly and nods, but then looks away again. Jared huffs in irritation. He didn’t even get enough time to smile at him. His smile always works. Always. 

Time for Plan B: Talking. Except, Jared doesn’t know what to say that would make him sound smart. Like - college smart. He searches his empty glass for inspiration, and guts. No wonder they’re paying him so much, for a change he’s supposed to use his upstairs brain more than his… 

Someone clears a throat right beside him. Jared starts, looks up and his jaw drops. 

When the hell did this guy make it all the way here, from all the way over there?

“Tell me to go away and I will.”

The photographs sure did no justice to the deep sea green of Ackles’ eyes. 

Jared swallows, hard, reminding himself that it’s now or never. Pulls out his best natural drawl ever, even if he hasn’t really used one in years. 

“I ain’t so smart, but I ain’t dumb either.”

Ackles is the one that starts this time. “You’re from Texas?”

“San Antonio.”

“Shut up!” 

The smile is wide, and bright and breathtaking. He pulls up a bar stool and sits down next to Jared, folding his long, impressively sculpted body beside him. 

Jared smells a heady combination of white musk and ivory, tries to block it out by wondering how much the chronograph watch on Ackles’ right wrist might be worth. Must be left-handed, he muses. 

“I’m from Dallas, originally. But I’m a New Yorker now. Jensen.”

Jared takes the offered hand, feeling its warmth seep into his cold and clammy one instantly. The grip is firm, embracing his hand, keeping it there like it belongs. 

“J-Jared Padalecki.”

“Pada…?”

“…lecki.”

“Padalecki?”

“Padalecki.”

They share a short laugh. Jared wonders if it’s modesty that makes Ackles not give out his last name. He pretends not to notice, or know, and besides he’s still too stunned and happy by this new turn of events. This is going to be easier than he thought. Jared smiles then, his trademark smile. He doesn’t know if it reaches his eyes anymore, and hopes the other man doesn’t care either. 

“Here on business?”

_Researching for a college term paper._

“Uh…”

Split-party delegations in the US Senate. Apparently it was creepy blond midget guy’s own research paper in college. Jared tried to read it all week but it’s frightfully boring. The only thing he’s taken away from the damn thing is a tiny, absent-minded scribble on page four that says ‘James Marsters of the universe’. Probably creepy blond midget guy’s real name, sure sounds like the obnoxious bastard he met. 

Ackles is waiting, his eyes keen, piercing right through to Jared’s soul. 

“I sort of won this free trip to Washington DC. Flight and hotel package. Four days and five nights?”

Padalecki you idiot.

“Awesome! So what do you think of this place?”

“Oh my God, it’s so cool! I mean… it’s very interesting. All the… uh, museums and memorials and stuff.”

Ackles chuckles. “How old are you?”

_Say you’re twenty-four at least. He won’t go for it if you’re too young._  

“Twenty two. A-And two months.”

Something falters in the older man’s eyes, and Jared secretly crosses his fingers. 

“So what do you do, Jared?”

Senior at Carnegie Mellon. A senior who’s got nothing to talk about except basketball and… that other thing he’s good at but doesn’t quite make for polite conversation in an upscale joint like this. 

“I’m a basketball coach at a middle school in New Jersey.”

The face brightens again. “No kidding! How tall are you again?”

A genuine smile splashes across Jared’s face, but he hunches a bit. Most of his Johns don’t really like it that he’s taller. “Six four.”

“Awesome, so you played in school?”

“Yeah. We even won the High School State championship back in…”

The memories flood back before Jared can stop himself, his knee buckles and his foot slips from its precarious resting place. He reaches out with a hand to grip the slab and steady himself, anchor himself to the present. 

“You okay?”

“Uh. Yeah, sorry, guess the booze is just hitting me now.”

“Happens if you’re not used to it. Sure you’re old enough to drink?”

Jared stutters, and Ackles laughs. 

“Relax. I’m kidding. You had dinner? I know this great place not far from here, we could walk if you like. It’s nice and breezy out there. Might even help clear your head. What do you say?”

What Jared really wants to say is - you’re so easy, dude. Relaxes for the first time all day, heck all week, except there’s one more thing he must make sure of.

“Yeah sure. Uh just out of curiosity, how far is it?”

“About five minutes?”

Jared smiles. “Okay, let’s go.”

They get up and Ackles picks up his jacket but leaves his tie at the bar. He also drops a generous amount of money to cover both their tabs and turns to look up at Jared who is now standing behind him. 

“Wow, you’re a big boy, aren’t ya, stretch?”

Jared tries to slouch again. 

“Relax, I’m kidding! Just a minute.”

Great. Man’s a kidder. Bit of an asshole, but a kidder. Jared glares at the back of the retreating man’s head for a second before he checks himself out in one of the many gleaming reflecting surfaces surrounding him. While Ackles shares a few parting words with the bartender, he takes the time to tame his long, floppy hair back from his face. 

Five minutes, no problem. He can walk that much without showing it. 

 

***************  
***************

 

“Jesus… Jeffrey I don’t know. This is going to be a disaster. Ackles is going to see right through that oversized oaf.”

“Relax, Marsters. Look at this picture – his face, look at those big goofy eyes. Ackles won’t be able to resist that little-boy-lost act. Remember what Danneel said? He’s got a thing for the smart but wounded types. You just make him look and sound smart. Kid’s got the rest covered.”

“Yeah, that limp in his left leg - wonder what’s up with that. I asked him, he told me to fuck off.”

“Who cares? So long as he gets the job done. I want hi-def quality, Jimmy. Make sure your techies rig up both the rooms.” 

“Done. But don’t you think twenty grand is too much? It’s just a fuck for God’s sake.”

“I want to see him fall, and fall hard, Jimmy. Imagine the irony – his sordid secret revealed at that fucking conference he’s speaking at.”

“Hell yeah. Media Mogul turned laughing stock at  _Ethics_  summit.”

“Talk about truth and justice all you want, Ackles. Let’s see what you have to say when the truth comes out about you. When all your readers and viewers see with their own eyes the double life that you lead.”

“And we’ll be the ones to show them. Shocking exposé by Morgan Media.”

“I want to be there, Jimmy, when he hides his face in shame, running from the same guys that he claims are his family and friends. And I don’t give a flying fuck how much it costs me to do it. I want Achilles News Corp destroyed.”

“Amen, boss. Amen.”

 

***************  
***************

 

(tbc)


	2. Chapter 2

  
**Part Two**

***************

The five minutes’ walk Ackles promised him turns into ten and when they get lost, ten turns into fifteen. 

“Oh right, this is the street. Got it. This time I’m sure!”

“You said that the last three times.”

If he’s pouting he doesn’t know. Ackles grins sheepishly, brushes his knuckles against Jared’s and Jared tries not to shiver, more than a little jangled as to why he’s shivering at all. 

Just nerves, yeah. It’s just nerves.

“Sorry, this time I’m positive. Come on.”

He turns into the next left and Jared bites his lower lip. Concentrates on walking as evenly as he can, praying the limp isn’t showing, although so far Ackles doesn’t seem to have noticed. 

Of course that might also be because he’s too busy talking about himself. 

“Dr. Ferris was always my favorite professor back in college. She’s got a serious knack for storytelling, you know. She can literally keep you on the edge of your seat for hours, biting your nails in suspense.”

Jared nods and smiles, wincing slightly in pain, rolling his eyes inside. He can do that too -  _keep you on edge without release for hours if that’s what you prefer…_

“Man, you gotta meet her. She’s scorching hot! So anyway, she caught up with me at a press conference in LA and told me about this summit. It’s a really prestigious gathering and like every year the underlying theme is Ethics and Excellence in Journalism. But what really intrigued me was the subject she wanted me to talk on – the Politics of Truth. And I just jumped at it, ‘cause I think that’s a very interesting and relevant concept for today’s day and age, don’t you?”

Jared nods automatically. Yeah. Sure, why not. 

“I mean, think about it. A journalist’s first obligation may be to the truth. But is that the only obligation we have? Aren’t we also responsible for the consequences of unveiling that truth? How true is the truth anyway? And must everyone have the right to know each and every truth or are there truths that simply cannot be revealed to everyone because they only end up doing more harm than good? If yes, how much of the truth can you ethically reveal? And if it’s only half a truth, is it true at all? And just because you think it’s true, is that enough to… oh man, I’m sorry. I’m really boring you aren’t I?”

Jared laughs. “No, not at all. You… you ask too many questions.”

Ackles smirks back. “It’s my job. It’s what makes us - the press - so important, and intimidating. We’re the ones not afraid to ask the hard questions.”

Jared shrugs and looks down, concentrating on walking straight. “Sometimes it’s just easier to not know the answer.”

He feels Ackles’ eyes on him, and his face burns like it’s never burned before. 

“So you’re one of those.”

“One of who?”

“The kind who turn their backs to the truth. Put their middle fingers in their ears and sing la-la-la while the world around them burns to the ground.”

Jared stops walking. Narrows his eyes at the other man while his knee enjoys the brief moment of reprieve. Clearly Ackles has a limited worldview, one of a self-assured idealist who’s never had to go to bed on an empty stomach, unless of course it was by choice.

“You know how some people can multi-task and others can’t?”

Ackles stops a couple of steps ahead, and turns. Puts his hands in his slacks pockets. “Yeah?”

“It’s the same deal. Maybe these people you’re referring to with so much disdain, have enough so-called ‘truths’ in their own lives to worry about first. Truths they must face every single day, truths that don’t just go away by turning their backs to them, no matter how big or small they might be in the whole… grand scheme of things that _you_  can afford to worry about. Maybe, in the interest of preserving their own sanity, they just need to focus on one truth at a time?”

Ackles squints for a couple seconds like he’s actually mulling it over in his head, then suddenly turns and starts walking again, leaving Jared with no choice but to follow. 

“Truth’s a truth, Jared. Big or small. You have to acknowledge it. And sometimes you don’t need to do anything about it, least maybe not right away. Just…  _know_  what’s right and what’s not and tell others what’s right and what’s not. Spread the word and make the world just that tiny bit better for it. That’s all.”

Jared chuckles. “And I suppose you want me to trust the judgment of the media about the truth? Put my blind faith in you guys?”

“No. Not everybody.” He shakes his head then quickly grins, waits for Jared to catch up with him. “But you can trust Achilles any day!”

“Sure. Because you always know what’s fact and what’s fiction, huh?”

Ackles sighs, his eyebrows rising all the way up to his hairline. “I try to! Believe me. I try so hard, Jared, I do all the running around and the checks and verifications to make sure you don’t have to. I present to you only the information that I  _know_  for a fact is accurate. All you gotta do is tune in and trust me.” 

Jared laughs then. “Shipwrecked by the laughter of Gods…”

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

Ackles squints at him again, but suddenly looks away. “Here we are. The Prime Rib.”

The torturous walk ends at last and Jared looks up at the restaurant building in wondrous relief. Delight crosses his mind next, with disappointment right on its tail. 

“What, you don’t like steak?”

“I love steak.” And that’s the problem.

It’s a great place from the looks of it, elegant and intimate.  _Chic_. The kind Jared would never step into by himself.

He’s just happy to plonk himself on a wide, posh couch, stretching his aching leg out and for a change there’s enough room to do so without fear of tripping a passing waiter and getting kicked out. Ackles is six feet one himself at least, and by the look on his face he treasures the wide-open space just as much.

“What will you have?”

“Uh…” He buries his nose in the tastefully hardbound menu booklet. Everything looks so freaking expensive. Of course there’s always the credit card he could use…

“If you don’t mind, I could make a few recommendations.”

Thank God. “Uh, sure. W-Why don’t you go ahead and order for me?”

Ackles raises an eyebrow but then he shrugs, quite happy to take charge it seems, and starts to rattle off a couple of appetizers and entrées to the stewardess. Jared watches the rise and fall of his enviably thick eyelashes, subtly entranced. 

He’s something alright. Jensen Ross Ackles. A fascinating combination of down home country languor with upstate New York sophistication. Long manicured fingers wrapped around his sweating bottle of Sam Adams, smacking his beer-wet lips, raking Jared from head to whatever is visible above the table with his eagle-sharp eyes. 

“So, anyway. Wow. I talk a lot. And you don’t talk at all.”

Jared smiles tightly, wondering if Ackles would have said the same thing if they’d met four years ago. 

“So tell me something about yourself.”

“There isn’t much to tell.”

“There’s always something to tell.”

“Yeah, but it’s not always interesting.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

Okay. I’m a hooker. I’m here to fuck you so they can take your pictures and post them all over the Internet. Or blackmail you with them or give them to your ex-wife, whatever. I don’t care what they do. I don’t even care if they blur my face out like they said they would or not. Because this guy, James Marsters or someone, is going to pay me so much freaking money that I’d never ever thought was possible in this line of work. So much that I’d be able to…

Ackles snaps his fingers in his face. “Earth to Jared?”

“Sorry.” 

“Have to say you’re not trying very hard, Padalecki.”

Ackles smirks, and Jared frowns. “What do you mean?”

“If you wanna get in my pants, you’ve got to do better than that.”

“I…” Jared sputters on empty air. “I don’t…”

That deep resounding laughter echoes again. “I’m kidding, man. Relax!”

Aargh. 

The food arrives and it smells heavenly and Jared’s stomach rumbles loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear. But he can’t eat, not yet. Because when he starts eating, sometimes he can’t stop. And especially when it’s steak. And his tummy rounds up and he feels sluggish as hell and this is a job he can’t afford to mess up and he needs to be clean inside and…

“I’ve traveled the length and breadth of this big-ass country and, man, trust me. This is the best, most awesome steakhouse in all of America.”

Thanks. That helps.

“So, tell me about this coaching job of yours.”

Jared sighs, barely picks at the food set before him resolutely. School he can talk about. It’s the only part of his life that he’d even  _want_  to talk about.

“That job is like… my pride and joy. Doesn’t pay much, they can’t afford a full-time coach so, I, kind of have a couple other small-time jobs on the side.”

He looks up discreetly at Jensen to observe his reaction. The man seems hooked. No pun intended.

“It’s sort of in the bad part of town, you know – overrun by gang wars and shit like that. But these kids are so great with so much potential, they just never got a break you know? And they  _love_  basketball. It’s like they bring all their anger and frustrations and pain to the court and they pummel each other and they scream and curse and, sometimes they play dirty. But I’d rather have them work it out on my court than out on the streets. You should see them at the end of the day. Their hearts are lighter, their faces are brighter, and when it’s time to leave they just don’t wanna go.”

He shakes his head nostalgically. Remembers how TJ’s face falls every time after dark his big brother comes to drag his ass back home. Remembers how Jeff used to look after him like that. 

_Time to go home, baby bro…_

A fork clinks as it’s put down on a plate, startling him. Ackles is smirking at him, his eyes glazed with something that could be lust. Could be wonder, could even be skepticism. Jared clearly doesn’t know him enough yet.

“Told ya it’d be interesting.”

Jared huffs but he’s smiling. He stops when a hand stretches across the table to cover his. 

“You’ve been watching me all week.”

He grips his own knife harshly, knuckles paling but thankfully hidden under Ackles’ warm palm. It doesn’t occur to him immediately that to know Jared’s been watching him Ackles would have had to be watching Jared as well.

“I… you… I just…”

“I couldn’t wait for you to make a move any longer. I leave tomorrow morning.”

“Y-Yeah. I heard.”

“Jared…”

His voice is deep, and commanding. And soft. “I need to ask you this now, before this goes any further…”

“O-Okay.”

“Jared. Do you… Would you…?”

His breath is caught in his throat in a lump so huge it’s choking him. He doesn’t understand the butterflies in his stomach, and no it’s not just the hunger. Jared’s supposed to be clinical. Detached. 

Professional to the core. 

Then why is he feeling so nervous tonight, like it’s his first time? Like it’s his first date ever and he’s uncannily worried about making a good impression and saying the right things. It could be partly explained by the fact that he hasn’t actually had a  _date_  date in four years, but still, what’s with the damn giddiness man? Like he’s floating, drifting away without an anchor, out of control…

“Jared…”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind if I ate your steak?”

He blinks. And Ackles laughs. “Seeing as you’re not eating.”

“You’re an ass. And just for that, no you can’t have my steak.”

Ackles laughs again. Such sincere amusement in his eyes that Jared is forced to join in. Until he realizes the hand covering his never left. It’s still holding his, thumb softly caressing the pale underside of his slender wrist where he’s kind of ticklish and never realized it before tonight. 

He sighs, tries to pull away but Ackles won’t let him. Some job this is. People would say he’s the one getting seduced instead of the other way round. 

“Okay, seriously. No kidding this time. Jared…”

“Yeah.”

“Would you like to come upstairs with me? To my room?”

The words are honest, suavely dealt, and kind of blunt. Actually, very blunt. Like Ackles is used to getting his way, like nobody’s ever said no to him before. Jared can easily see why. 

He makes his coy face and tries anyway. “How do you know my room is downstairs?”

“Good question. Um. Maybe ’cause… I’m in the penthouse?”

“Oh.” Of course. And Jared is supposed to know that too. Duh.

The thumb’s still tickling him, and he softly chuckles. “May I have my hand back please?”

“No.”

Jared strongly suspects from the blaze lit in his cheeks that he’s blushing, damn. Tries to bite the grin back as he looks away. That’s when his eyes land on a giant plasma screen tuned in to a news channel, ANCN.

“Hey, you’re on TV!”

Ackles looks up then, pulling his hand away and Jared feels strangely sorry.

They’re talking about the clash of two media network giants – “Achilles versus Morgan – the continuing saga”. He knows about Achilles of course, a minor fact that’s listed in the dossier but even if it wasn’t, he’s heard about it from Ackles himself, only like twenty times in the last forty minutes. 

The ticker running below Ackles’ mug shot in black shades and a two-day old stubble is about the Morgan House of Media & Communications making a bid for National Geographic Global Media. 

“Hey Eddie! Can you turn that up for a minute?”

The bartender, who Ackles obviously knows, nods and reaches for a remote somewhere. Volume comes up a second later. 

“Tim Kelly, President of the National Geographic family was not immediately available for comment. But according to our market sources, speculation is that if this bid is not accepted, Morgan will most definitely attempt a hostile takeover.”

“Sonofabitch.”

Jared looks at the other man’s face as it transforms. It was calm and playful a second ago. He’s blank now, eerily so. Sure doesn’t look surprised.

“You know him?”

The picture shifts and there’s a man in maybe his fifties with peppered hair on the screen now.

“Who, Kelly? Yeah I met him a couple times. He’s a great man, brilliant strategist.”

“Then what are you calling him a sonofabitch for?”

Ackles turns to him then, the sides of his eyes crease with something Jared can’t place but he’s just glad Ackles doesn’t look mad. Seems to be struggling to bite a smile back actually, maybe. 

“Not him, kid. I meant Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Chairman of Morgan Media.”

And that’s all he says, his tone plainly dismissive as he turns back to the television. They’re now doing a piece on the Internet portal bid Morgan recently lost to Achilles News Corp not so long ago.

What? Why is this not in the dossier? This he could totally talk about for hours! Don’t have to be a college boy to keep up with stuff that’s happening round the world. Besides, Jared has always been a voracious reader. That aspect of his old life hasn’t changed, least not yet.

“So you’re the one who teamed up with Google to buy Yahoo?”

Ackles shrugs, only a little immodestly. “One and only.”

“Awesome! The way you guys divested small chunks of the advertising business to get around the anti-trust clause, that was pure genius man. I’m just so glad you didn’t let…!”

“Shh, keep it down.” But he’s grinning, the surprise pleasantly evident on Ackles’ flawless face. 

“Sorry,” Jared realizes he’d started to shriek, whispers in equally excited tones instead. “I’m just so glad Microsoft didn’t get its grubby hands on it, man.”

“Yeah, me too. But I’m gladder this Morgan guy didn’t get it either. He would have run it to the ground then eventually broken it up into a thousand pieces and sold ‘em off one by one. He just doesn’t have the competence to run a technology-driven venture like an Internet portal. And especially not one as big as Yahoo.”

The news piece continues to run, now switching to a video clipping of this guy, Morgan, from a press conference held earlier today.

_“Mr. Morgan! Are you worried Achilles might also decide to bid for National Geographic and steal the deal from under your nose?_  Again?”

The audience softly sniggers. 

_“Mr. Ackles has spread himself and his fledgling corporation way too thin. I’d advise him to stay away, if nothing else but for the sake of his thousands of employees.”_

_“Mr. Morgan! Thomas Welling, Vice President of Achilles recently said that Morgan house should not be making any new acquisitions and concentrate on organic growth of your magazines instead. Do you agree?”_

_“Ms. Mack, my grandfather established this media house eighty years ago. My father was President for forty years before he handed over the reins to me and I have been running this conglomerate for twelve years and very successfully, I might add. Don’t think I need these youngsters to come and tell me how I should run my business.”_

Jared looks at Ackles, who simply shrugs. “Tom’s been my best friend since Wharton, and he’s right. I’d worry if more than half my magazines were losing money and fix them first before I go investing in new stuff.”

_“Mr. Morgan, are you upset with Mr. Ackles because earlier he’d been quoted saying the only Morgan products making any money are your skin mags?”_

Jared gawks at him again. 

“What? It’s true.”

_“Is it also true that the International Center for Journalists had initially extended the invitation to be their chief guest lecturer at the Ethics and Excellence Summit this year to you, but later revoked it and invited Mr. Ackles instead?”_

_“I had unavoidable commitment issues. It was unfortunate but I could not accommodate a whole week into my very busy schedule…”_

_“There’s been speculations that the ICJ revoked your invitation because of recent allegations of physical and mental abuse levied on you by your ex-wife. What is your response?”_

Ackles scowls and turns back to the bartender just as Morgan mutters something sounding suspiciously like a ‘no comment’. 

“Yo Eddie! We’re done, turn this shit off will ya?”

“Sure, no problem, Mr. Ackles.”

“Man, told you not to call me that.”

“Sorry, Jensen.” 

Jared takes in the genuine smile, first on Eddie’s then on Ackles’ face. It occurs to him then that what he’s been interpreting as egotism, might just be Ackles’ sheer and almost childlike delight at everything he’s achieved in such a short period of time. Nobody can fake a smile like that. Can they?

Ackles waves his second beer bottle right in Jared’s face breaking him out of his thoughts. “Still with me?”

Jared shakes his head, smiling a little and trying not to stare into the older man’s face so much. 

“You guys don’t like each other, do ya?”

Course he’s not referring to Eddie, which Ackles gets. “Is it that obvious?”

Jared snorts, and Ackles shrugs it off, like Morgan isn’t someone he cares to expend his valuable time or energy on. 

“So what do you say?”

“Uh…” If Ackles is looking for a smart answer, he’s going to be so disappointed. Damn, and he was so close. 

“I-I don’t know if I know enough to comment on…”

“What? Not that! I asked you a question before.” 

“…”

“Your place or mine?”

Blunt and forthright again. The green eyes are twinkling, red lips upturned. Jared squashes the sudden urge that longs to say neither. Neither because they’re both rigged…

“Jared?”

_We’ll pay you twenty grand. Twenty grand to get you off the streets. Away from that asshole pimp of yours. Think what twenty grand can do for you…_

“I’ve never been inside a penthouse.”

Ackles smiles. “Eddie? Check please.”

 

***************  
***************

 

“I told you before, Jared. You have to listen to me if you don’t want this getting worse.”

“I can’t play, Dr. Beaver. My scholarship’s gone and I can’t go to college anymore. My best friend’s dead. Don’t see how it can possibly get any worse than this.”

“Yes it can! At least you can walk.”

“I don’t walk. I limp.”

“Would you feel better on crutches? Or in a wheelchair maybe?”

“…”

“I’m sorry, kiddo. Please just listen to me. You must keep this knee immobilized as much as possible. And maybe someday, this type of graft surgery will become…”

“What? Cheap? I don’t think so, doctor. My family’s struggling with my hospital bills and therapy bills and fucking pharmacy bills as it is. And now with Jeff in med school, and Megan’s working so hard to get into Juilliard…”

“It’s not the end of the road, Jared.”

“It is for me.”

“Where you going? Your mom’s coming to pick you up, she said you should wait for her right here.”

“…”

“Jared? Jared, where you going?”

 

***************  
***************

 

Ackles gets a phone call while they’re settling the bill. 

“Yo! … Everything set? … Good … Nah, I’m going back to my room now … Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow man … Sure … Later.”

Jared watches as he pays with his Amex Platinum, signs the receipt without even looking at it. Bites his lip and drums three fingers on his aching knee. At this price he might as well have enjoyed the damn steak. He couldn’t possibly split the tab with Ackles in this place on his own. Sure he could barter his services maybe? Five point five blowjobs, or eight point eight handjobs, maybe a quick fuck and a handjob at a one time only discounted price…

“Something wrong?”

“What? No. Not at all.”

Ackles looks at him, his eyes filled with that thing he still can’t place. Like he knows Jared isn’t being entirely honest with him. 

He has no idea.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

When they come out of the restaurant, it’s drizzling lightly. Jared worries that if the downpour gets any stronger, his brand new clothes are going to get ruined.

“Are we walking?”

“Do you mind?”

Jared glares at him. “It’s raining.”

Ackles smirks and starts walking. “Pussy.”

“Why did you even ask?” He trots lightly to catch up with Ackles, still lingering one step behind so he can hobble a little if he needs to. 

“If you want us to take a cab, all you gotta do is say it.”

It’s a dare. And Marsters’ card is going to pay for the dry-cleaning anyway. “Nah, I’m good.”

Ackles pauses, and Jared is relieved for the break. That is until the older man turns around and opens his mouth. “Sure your leg’s not bothering you too much?”

Lightning flashes behind him, leaves pink and white streaks in the sky.

“How do you…?”

“I know everything about you. I’ve been researching you all week.”

And thunder rolls somewhere in the distance. If Jared weren’t so spooked right now, he’d have found the timing hilariously melodramatic. 

“What did you say?”

And just like that, Ackles bursts out laughing. 

“I’m kidding! Relax, man. You’ve got no sense of humor, really.”

Jared swallows, hard. Shifts weight from one leg to the next and back quickly, waiting for an explanation. 

“I just noticed you were limping when we entered the restaurant. And you’re doing it again now. Is something wrong?”

He grinds his teeth, feels the hackles rising and he can’t seem to push them down. “I’m fine.”

“Let’s just call a cab and get you back to the…”

“Don’t do me no fucking favors.”

The flutter of falling raindrops, not too hard and not too soft, is the only sound that breaks through to his brain as it once again drowns in sordid memories of his past. But Jared knows he can’t afford to go there. Not now, not in front of this man. He doesn’t owe this man any explanations damn it! He doesn’t want to talk about it anyway. 

He really, really shouldn’t. 

“That State championship I told you about, the one I won in high school?”

“Yeah.”

“We… went out that night to celebrate. We got drunk.”

Ackles frowns, his face an open book, confusion slowly giving way to sad comprehension. He glances downwards at Jared’s brand new jeans and Nikes and Jared just wants to disappear, now. Right fucking now. 

“Was it your fault?”

Of all the things that Jared thinks Ackles could have said or done or asked right then, that one he didn’t expect. But of course, he’s paparazzo. Not afraid to ask the hard questions. Jared glares right back. 

“Yeah.”

“…”

“…”

“The hotel’s five minutes away. Come on.”

Jared falls in line, and they keep walking in the rain. At least now that he doesn’t need to hide his limp, he can walk as crooked as he likes. Not like Ackles is looking at him anyway, walking three steps ahead of him, hands dug deep in his pockets. He seems completely oblivious of the rain starting to fall harder, matting his short, dirty blond spikes down. The toned, sinewy muscles of his body are now plainly evident under the rich black fabric, moving with such…  _dangerous_  poise, and the promise of savage strength lurking just beneath the surface.

The ‘pretty’ is just a veneer. Jared wonders what else this man is hiding beneath his layers. 

**

Back at the hotel, the rich and the powerful and the politically connected are just about starting to trickle in. Some came seeking shelter from the rain, while others are out to enjoy a Friday night no doubt. Jensen nods and waves and smiles at a lot of people he probably knows or who know him, acts all cool and composed like nothing’s amiss. Like he didn’t just invite a  _guy_  up to his room, who happens to be walking right behind him. 

Jared follows him about like a lost, slightly dripping, overgrown puppy. He knows no one, and nobody knows him. But he straightens up anyway all the way up to his grand NBA-worthy height. Doesn’t want to look weak or out of place in front of everyone because everyone  _is_  looking. At him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It takes him a couple seconds to realize that no one is giving him any dirty looks, for a change. A few even smile and greet him cordially. Another second goes by before Jared remembers he isn’t wearing his street clothes in here. The brilliance reflected off his flashy new watch must clearly be working, like a charm. 

A Republican looking, middle-aged couple passes him by, and this time he smiles back.

In the elevator, Ackles turns to look at him for the first time since their little altercation outside. Jared’s breath hitches in his throat. Obviously he doesn’t want his mark to be upset and lose the mood before he can get his job done. But Ackles’ gaze is still heated and kind of intense, like he would simply love to bitch-slap Jared in the face, and hard. He knows that look well - Sebastian gets it all the time. Like he would love to rip Jared’s clothes off him and bend him over right here between the sixth and the seventh floor, right fucking now. Sebastian gets that look too, all the time.

Oh well, no can do. No cameras in the elevator. Far as he knows.

The battle is nearly won. All he has to do is make sure Ackles keeps his face turned towards any one of the many cameras. Not sure how many. Or where either, actually.

His stomach is still unsettled though, acting out in defiance of the pull of gravity against which they’re ascending. He thinks maybe when they come to a stop, it’ll go away. It doesn’t. 

“Come on in.”

Ackles’ voice is low, a deep, husky whisper as the elevator comes to a stop at the topmost floor and he holds the doors open for Jared to step out.

It’s a fucking palace. 

There are two more rooms beyond this one, far as he can tell. The living room is large and spacious, done in warm shades of mahogany and gold. There’s a giant plasma and Bose surround sound system set up in front of a large, plush looking maroon leather couch. A crystal chandelier decorates the high ceiling in the middle of the room and a bowl full of Swiss and Belgian chocolates sits on the coffee table perilously within reach… 

Jared turns a three sixty degrees and back again, taking in the breathtaking magnificence and he hasn’t even seen the bedroom yet. A hand slips into his, and he nearly jumps. Ackles is grinning at him, and Jared wonders what he sees in his face that’s so amusing. 

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? Dude! Bet this is where the King of Nepal stays when he visits.”

Ackles laughs. “Close enough.”

He starts to tug at the hand and walks backwards, pulling Jared into the next room. 

“I don’t live like this usually. My place back in Manhattan is really simple, and sparse really. I’m a minimalist at heart, don’t really like such  _opulence_.”

“That’s ‘cause you have the choice to reject it.”

Why can’t he bite his tongue in time?

Ackles’ face hardens for a second, but melts just as quickly. “You’re probably right.”

He pulls his guest into the bedroom now and Jared is awestruck, again. Everything in here is blue and gold and it’s slightly understated in comparison but just as magnificent and intimidating. The bed’s a fucking four poster and it’s ginormous and those look like silk or satin sheets and there’s netted white gold curtains bunched up at the top of the bed and God he’s going to need an oxygen tank because this feels like he’s come all the way up to heaven and his head feels so fucking light…

“This is, wow, this is beautiful.”

Ackles lets go of his hand then. Cups a side of his face instead. “Not as beautiful as you.”

Jared’s breath hitches. The sea green gaze is steady, and searing as it locks onto his brown one. Another hand comes up to caress his face from the other side. He watches helplessly as Ackles licks his lips. 

He’s pulled down into the kiss, firm and steady yet surprisingly gentle. Jared lets his eyes fall shut, his hands coming up around the older man’s waist, as he steps in closer. Closer, until he’s flush against Ackles’ hard body. Chest to broad chest, groin to bulging groin. The kiss grows deeper, harsher, hotter. 

He hasn’t been kissed in such a long, long time. Johns don’t do foreplay, and they usually don’t want to kiss the mouth that’s been God knows where else all day. The few guys that did show interest in kissing him, Jared had easily turned them down. 

He doesn’t know how to say no to this man. 

He lets Ackles push his tongue into his mouth with ardor, licking his teeth and gums and tasting the remnants of beer and steak and blood in Jared’s mouth. Mixing it up with the myriad tastes trapped in his own mouth, tongues pressing and caressing into each other. Rolling around and along each other in a rhythmic dance Jared thinks he can never ever have enough of. If this is how it feels like to be kissed, why the hell did he ever stop?

The deft hands are on his jacket now, pushing it away from his shoulders, and Jared really ought to be returning the favor, except his hands are trembling and he doesn’t know why. With fear? With anticipation? 

Guilt maybe? 

He groans, pushes his tongue rabidly against his mark’s, forcing himself to concentrate here, on fucking his over-thinking overanalyzing brains out through his hungry mouth. Ackles obliges. 

The jacket is pulled off, and warm hands start to unbuckle the belt around his waist. Pull it out of the loops in one strong jerk that practically lifts him off his feet but Ackles keeps him grounded. Steady and captive.

He feels Ackles pushing him backwards, walking him back to the center of the room where he knows that monster bed is. Something about that bed scares him, like it’s going to swallow him whole and never let him go. Like it would be the last bed he’d conduct his business in ever, ever again. A random ridiculous thought hits him, of the possibility of iron shackles and chains hidden under the folds of the coverlet and he shudders.

“Shh…”

Hands return to stroke the damp strands of hair back from his face. Eyes stare into his, as if searching for something desperately, and for the life of him Jared doesn’t know what that is. He stands with his hands now fisted in the front of Ackles’ jacket, anchoring his trembling frame to the man. Wishes he could let his head fall, make room for itself on his broad chest and close his eyes to rest, just for a little while… 

God, what is happening to him?

The mouth latches back onto his, the backpedaling continues until he feels the foot of the bed at the back of his wobbling knees. Hands get busy pulling off his t-shirt until they touch naked, searing skin. Undo the zipper and pull the jeans down to just below his crotch when suddenly they stop. Ackles pulls back and gazes deep into his eyes before he smirks. Then with a swift single-handed thrust in the middle of his chest, pushes until Jared is falling. Flying and flailing until he hits the springy mattress, bounces back up once, before sinking into the bountiful depths one last time. Jared panics. 

“Ackles…”

“Jensen.”

“What?”

“Jensen,” he whispers again breathily, unclasping his cufflinks and dropping them to the floor as his eyes rove studiously all over Jared’s body. Jared closes his eyes and trembles again. 

“J-Jensen…”

The scalding gaze finally moves up to meet Jared’s eyes. “Yeah?”

Jared is supposed to say something, but he doesn’t remember what. His hands reach out finally getting with the program, striving to touch Ackles’ body, yearning, anything to hold onto because he doesn’t like this feeling of uncontrollable sinking…

Ackles… Jensen just smiles ever so softly, lowers himself to the bed hovering over Jared. Takes the seeking hands in his, kisses Jared’s forehead, his nose, his eyebrows, his cheeks, the mole on the left of his lower lip. Licks at his jaw line, his neck, suckling at the protruding Adam’s apple and making Jared laugh. The knots in his stomach start to loosen bit by bit. 

Two arms manage to wiggle underneath his torso and suddenly heave him up from the bed and into a bone-crushing embrace. He is held against Ackles’ wet-shirted chest, so close that if he leans in he could hear the man’s heart thundering away furiously. Instead he looks up into those gorgeous eyes, sharp and intent and passionate and… downright terrifying.

“You okay to do this?”

Question mark. He’s actually being given a choice. 

He’s supposed to say yes. He ought to say no. But honestly, he doesn’t  _want_  to say no. For the first time in a really, really long time, he is being given a choice. Except, it isn’t a real choice. Not really. 

Jared doesn’t know if he could ever possibly say no to this man. 

“Jared?”

Fucking ironies of his life. “Yeah I… Y-Yeah.”

Jensen smiles, that beautiful smile again. And the mouth that’s a heaven-sent closes over Jared’s just in time to stop him from blubbering like a little kid starved so long for genuine affection.

A hand snakes up and cups the back of his head, and he’s suddenly being lowered back onto the bed. He misses the tongue he’d been sucking on and his lips stay open in invitation as also to draw in necessary breath. Once he’s flat on his back, Jensen starts to pull his jeans off him completely. He grunts when they catch on his sneakers and gets off the bed to pull the shoes and socks off Jared’s feet. It’s that split second of clarity that makes all the fucking difference. 

Jared remembers where he is. And why. The bugs. 

He looks around the room, the walls, the high ceiling, the paintings decorating the wall. Where could it be? It? They? How is he supposed to know if Ackles is facing in the right direction or not? Does he even care?

The jeans are off at last and Jensen gets back up, his knees on the bed as he straddles Jared’s slightly ajar legs, and pats his flank twice. 

“Up.”

Jared shimmies upwards, until Jensen’s hands make him stop, land squarely on his waistband. There is no hiding his arousal through the scant covering of his underwear, and Jensen’s smirking face is proof of how much he’s enjoying this.

He expects him to be rough about it, yank Jared’s precious new boxer briefs off him in a strong tug, maybe even ripping them in two and usually Jared has rules about this stuff (‘you ruin my clothes you pay extra’) but this doesn’t seem to be the occasion to recount any of those. So instead he just closes his eyes, bracing himself for the attack. It never comes. 

Instead a hand is massaging him, from over the covering of his briefs, softly, diligently. Almost lovingly.

“Ahh! Jensen…”

“Shh… you like this? Don’t you?”

Clearly it’s a rhetorical question. The hand strokes and fondles the growing bulge repeatedly. Holds the tightening balls and rolls them around within their prison of cotton and the sensation does awful crazy things to his gut and Jared gasps. 

He wonders whom Jensen is teasing more, Jared or himself. Can’t help his soft moans because damn it this is sexier and hotter than he ever thought possible. Jensen lowers his face over his crotch and mouths his balls from over the fabric, wetting it thoroughly with his saliva. Jared writhes, pushing his legs apart and arching up into the fleeting touches and damn it, he needs more, and  _now_.

“Jensen, please… fff-fuck!”

The man smirks and moves his mouth to the belly button instead. And that’s even worse, unbelievably so. No one’s spent so much time worshipping all these other parts of his body before.

His hands worm their way into Jensen’s wet spikes but they can’t stay still too long as Jensen licks a line between his navel and the hem of his briefs. Up then down, and up and back down again. Jensen blows into Jared’s belly like one would entertain a little baby and Jared laughs, jerking away as much as into the nimble hands now holding his hips. 

“Dude! Stop!”

Jensen’s soft laughter mingles with Jared’s but he stops as asked, kissing and licking avidly instead. Jared inhales sharply when the briefs are peeled down at last. Off his erect cock, past his smooth heavyset balls, down the skinny hairless legs, over the knees one aching, one not. Jensen tugs them off his ankles and drops them to the floor carelessly, then he sits back with his long legs folded under him and he just… watches. 

Jared didn’t know he could blush from being naked in front of a complete stranger anymore. And yet here he is, warming up from the inside out, blazing a bright crimson from head to toe because Jensen…  _Jensen_  is looking at him. Feels the sudden strong urge to hide, preferably in Jensen’s arms. 

“Take this off…”

Jared’s voice is a hoarse whisper, both demanding and pleading as his hands play with the lapels of Jensen’s shirt. 

“Not yet. Maybe later. We have all night.”

He looks up into Jensen’s eyes, now dangerously dark with desire. And he gulps. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Jared, you’ll feel me all the way up to your throat.”

 

***************  
***************

 

“The kid knows what to do?”

“Yes, boss. He knows both rooms will be rigged up, so he can do his thing wherever. And I told him he gets five grand extra if he gets us some good money-shots of Ackles on his hands and knees.”

“Think he can do it? Kid’s a slut. He’s used to taking it up the ass most of the time.”

“I don’t know. He’s taller, maybe he can, you know… Jesus I can’t believe I’m discussing details of gay butt sex with my boss.”

“You think I’m enjoying this? I hate them fucking fags too, you know it Marsters.”

“Of course, me too. But I told him he must be aggressive. A couple of good shots of Ackles’ face screwed up like a pornstar, getting his ass pounded by a two-bit whore… it’d be the breaking news of the century.”

“His stock will plummet, and ours will rise. Prepare a follow-up article with speculations on possible liaisons with that pompous deputy of his, Welling. Guy that good-looking can’t possibly be straight and all that shit.”

“Brilliant. I’ll get to it now.”

“Jimmy? What did you tell this kid? Why is he doing this?”

“I told him Ackles’ ex-wife is looking for a hefty out-of-court divorce settlement on the grounds that Ackles is a closet homosexual and adulterous, and how she’s been subjected to mental torture and all that lovely legal jazz.”

“Perfect. I’m just waiting for the moment the dogs uncover the tiny little detail that the kid’s a prostitute. Ackles will never recover from that one. But we have to be sure he doesn’t know Morgan Media is involved in any way.”

“Not at all, boss. The kid knows why we’re paying him so much - to keep his mouth shut and to disappear if ever the shit hits the fan. Think that’s what he plans to do anyway. You saw the agency’s name on the catalogue, right? Elite Escorts? He’s one of Spence’s boys.”

“Sebastian Spence? Sadistic prick in cahoots with the mob Spence?”

“Yep, Spence. Betcha million bucks Jared takes the money and runs like hell.”

“And what if he talks?”

“There’s nothing to tell. He’s only ever seen me once and he doesn’t even know my real name. Worst case - he’ll blame Danneel.”

“Good. Good.”

“I wonder why Danneel didn’t cash in on this herself. She’s not even that blonde, you know.”

“Apparently, she is.”

 

***************  
***************

 

(tbc)


	3. Chapter 3

  
**Part Three**  
 

***************

“On your hands and knees.”

Jared swallows again. There’s a challenge in Ackles’ eyes that seems to say: defy me, fight me if you will. Except, Jared doesn’t think he wants to. 

Mutely, he rises off the bed, turns and gets his knees under him, doggie style. Pushes his naked rump out towards the man, just the way Jared knows they  _all_  want it. Whore like him, performance anxiety’s never been a problem. It’s the way his stomach is clenched and his pulse is racing that worries him. He’s supposed to be detached. Clinical. A professional to the core…

He starts as he feels the older man lifting off the bed. 

“Spread your legs.”

He obeys, closing his eyes feeling the blood in his veins rush down to his groin as well as up his face all at once. Ackles stands behind him, his eyes trained on his ass offered up for him, hell, anyone to take. Two fingers and a thumb land on his right ass cheek and he jumps. But the hand pulls him back in place. 

“Shh… relax.”

Two hands now, caressing the dimples of his butt, fingering the cleft lightly, drawing a digit down into the crevice and back up again. Jared trembles, and Jensen shushes him. The rain falls harder, pelting directly overhead, an ambient trance-like soundtrack that’s inescapable, just like Jensen’s fingers now circling his opening. Over and over and over again. 

“Ohh… Jensen… please…”

His sac is gripped from below, pulled back between his legs, tickled and stroked like a beloved pet. A finger probes him lightly, and Jared can’t help but push back into the subtle teasing. He needs to be touched, inside, outside, every fucking side, right fucking now. He whimpers, bumping his rapidly filling cock against Jensen’s hand imploringly. 

“C’mon man…”

“Patience, all in good time, baby boy. All in good time.”

Suddenly the touches vanish, and Jared opens his eyes, cranes behind him to see Jensen walking away. He panics. 

“Stay,” says Jensen, offhandedly.

What is he, his fucking dog? Jared grunts his protest, but holds the position, balances his weight on two hands and one knee, keeps the injured one as protected as possible. Closes his eyes and hears a drawer pulled open. The crinkling of plastic follows and then the drawer slides shut. Jensen walks back to him then, shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it on the floor beside Jared’s clothes, undoes his shirt buttons but lets the ends hang open by his sides.

A soft kiss is pressed into Jared’s left buttock, before the hands return to caress him again. 

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

So many times now he’s lost count. Jared mutely nods. 

“So beautiful.” 

Jared closes his eyes, lets the words flicker through his senses. Even though they mean absolutely nothing to him, Jensen’s voice makes them sound so strangely sincere. He smells lube, water-based, the expensive kind. 

Two slick digits slide into him pretty smoothly. He relaxes his muscles with practiced ease until they wriggle their way in as deep as they can go. This is usually the point where Jared switches his screaming mind off and his body turns robotic and stays that way until the point the prick says goodbye or ‘Adios bitch’ or whatever. But here in this moment, with Jensen, he finds himself unable to think of anything else but the man who’s got two groomed fingers up his ass. Can’t help his hips rocking back and forth into the intrusion, especially after another hand, also slicked, comes around to form a loose fist around his shaft. 

Jensen teases the purple head for a while until Jared starts to mewl and then a rhythmic cycle is set - Jared sliding forward into the fist and arching back into the fingering alternatingly. Jensen angles about until he finds the little bundle of nerves inside making Jared gasp. And he works it relentlessly until Jared completely loses his mind. And his will to resist.

For the first time in years, Jared begs because he really means it. 

“Ahhh… Jensen… please…”

As if waiting for that very cue, Jensen climbs onto the bed behind him and the sound of a zipper pulled down rings like relief in Jared’s ears. He quickly rolls on a condom and slicks himself up. When he starts to push in, Jared clams up on reflex at first. Two hands softly stroke his sides, encouraging him to settle.

“Let me in, Jared. Let me in or I’ll die.”

Jared smiles and wills himself to slacken enough to let Jensen in a couple inches more. Jared gasps and Jensen shushes. 

“You okay? You have to tell me, Jared.”

“Y-Yeah.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you, ever.”

Jared gulps back tears. For a second, just a second, he lets the words break him. 

“Don’t worry. Keep going.”

It doesn’t make sense. Jensen is huge and it’s expectedly uncomfortable of course, but Jared is quivering like it’s his first time. His mind is a mess of conflicting thoughts and suddenly all he wants is this night to be over. 

Except it’s not what Jensen wants. 

He thrusts in with such vigor he would have sent Jared toppling to the bed if he weren’t holding the hips back himself. And when he pulls out, it’s slow and excruciating, only to drive back in with twice the force.

It’s fast, and rough and adamant. Jared bites his lips because he doesn’t want Jensen to know how affected he is. Doesn’t want him to know the times he successfully hits the sweet spot because damn it he’ll just do it again. And again and again, and Jared doesn’t wanna feel this way. Doesn’t wanna enjoy this, he can’t. It’s a job. Just a job. A highly lucrative job and he can’t… 

_Oh God!_  

The rain comes down harder, and somehow seems to be propelling his silent companion to fuck him harder. The thrusts are strong but getting erratic, Jensen must be close. Jared closes his eyes, prays for the man to be done soon. He can’t be feeling what he’s feeling. Not when he’s about to ruin this guy’s life.

_Think of what twenty grand can do for you…_

A hand closes around his weeping erection and starts to tug in tandem with the thrusts. 

_I don’t wanna hurt you, ever._

Bright stars explode behind his closed eyelids when he comes, his body overwhelmed with pleasure like he’s never felt before. Jensen gasps and erupts inside him, filling the condom with his release before collapsing on top of Jared and sending them both buckling to the bed. Jared pants, waits for Jensen to pull out. 

“Jensen…”

“Give me a minute here, sweetheart. Think I broke mah back.”

Jared laughs, loving the sound of the grumpy Texan drawl as it lazily rolls off his senses and reminds him of simpler times, happier times. The weight of the other man is warm and comforting if only a bit crushing and hell, Jared thinks he could stay like this,  _just_  like this, forever. 

What the fuck is he doing? 

He needs to leave.  _Now_. They must have enough video footage to work with by now. To hell with the extra five grand, he can’t. He just can’t be around Jensen anymore. 

“Jense… ahh…”

The shooting pain in his knee makes itself evident, now that his faculties awaken in the aftermath of the (unbelievable) sex. It’s a sob, but it could easily pass off as just another breathless gasp. No one’s been able to tell the difference so far. 

But Jensen does. 

“What’s wrong?” His head comes up off Jared’s back. 

“No-Nothing. Can you… I just… I need to…”

Leave. Now. If his legs cooperate. 

Jensen pulls out of him then, careful with the condom as he gets rid of it in a waste paper basket nearby. 

“Does it hurt? I told you if I was hurting you, you should…”

“It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine.” 

_Get off my back, literally._

“Turn over.”

“Why?”

_Not again. Not now, please. I need to…_

Jensen forcibly turns him around, pressing him into the bed until he’s on his back again. Another traitorous gasp escapes his lips as he stretches his left leg out. Jensen catches it and frowns, looks down at his knees, closer this time than before. One’s swollen and twisted at a slightly unnatural angle, riddled with scars from a life long gone. 

“Don’t.”

Please, please don’t. Jared’s eyes are stone but his voice is quaking and he knows it. Jensen doesn’t listen, a hand closes around the protruding knob, palpating it ever so gently and Jared whimpers in what is unquestionably, pain. 

“Damn it. You should have said something before.”

“Let me go…”

He can’t do this anymore. His head starts to hurt and he can already hear Alan’s screams beside him and the rain’s thick and thunderous outside just like that night four years ago and the car is skidding and then rolling over and over again and he can’t… he just can’t… 

“Hey, Jared. Jared! It’s okay. Look at me, it’s okay!”

The deep, soothing voice wrenches him from his past, tugging him back into the now. Swelling and dipping like a tumultuous wave. But it’s softer now, like a whispering constant he unknowingly clings to, one he never wants to let go. 

“Shh… it’s okay.”

Hands hold him down just in case, pressed into the monster bed and there’s nothing left to do except maybe breathe. But he’s not really breathing. He’s wheezing. Jensen tries to reassure him with a soft smile, his eyes full of that thing Jared still has no name for again. 

“You know, funny story. After high school, I first went to USC. And I told you about Dr. Ferris right?”

As he talks, he slowly shifts away to sit in front of Jared’s left leg, lifting it with one hand supporting the back of his knee while the other hand cradles the ankle in his palm. 

“That’s where I met her. She gave a guest lecture on the power of the published word on campus and, aw man, I was completely smitten.”

He holds the shin straight and horizontal in the air, studies the inflammation in Jared’s knee before carefully placing the foot back on the bed. 

“What are you doing?”

“Telling you how I changed the very course of my life, man! See I loved her so much, I ditched my whole year at USC and went to UCLA next year to major in journalism, just so I’d be in  _her_  class…”

Jensen then curls both hands around Jared’s knee, placing his thumbs on the cap at the seat of the patellar tendon. And he starts to massage it, backwards and forwards, several times, pausing only at points that make Jared flinch in agony. His head is bowed in deep concentration but he’s still talking. 

“Got her to be my academic advisor and everything. Does this hurt?”

Jared winces, “A little.”

“Stay right there, we need ice.”

He gets up and walks out to the living room. Jared is panting and confused. “What…”

Jensen doesn’t stop, so Jared just yells out after him in the next room. “What was your major before?”

Jensen yells back. “Physical therapy. Do you want a beer?” 

 

***************  
***************

 

“Come home, little brother. Please just come home with me.”

“…”

“Do you have any idea what you running away like this is doing to Mom and Dad? Dad’s worried sick. He is trying so hard but doesn’t know how to console Mom. No one does.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“Get over it? She spends all her waking moments in your room! Touching your trophies and photographs, fixing your cupboard again and again and again.”

“Please tell me you got rid of my gay porn collection?”

“This isn’t funny.”

“Well what do you want me to say? I told you before, Jeff, I’m not going back there.”

“What about all the people who love you? Who’re worried about you?”

“There’s nothing left for me to go back to, alright? Nothing! Just tell them they don’t need to worry. I’m fine. Tell them I’m like on a road trip. Yeah. I’m on a vacation.”

“A vacation. Alone. In Denver.”

“Why not? Tell them how the air is soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great that I thought I was in a dream.”

“Stop quoting people I don’t fucking know.”

“It’s Jack Kerouac, doofus. On the Road?”

“…”

“Suddenly we came down from the mountain and overlooked the great sea-plain of Denver; heat rose as from an oven. We began to sing songs. I am itching to get on to San Francisco.”

“Look, I know you just turned eighteen and it’s your life and you have the right to lead it however you want. But your knee still needs medical attention and…”

“Tell them I feel like a million dollars. I am adventuring in the crazy American night.”

“Damn it, Redster, how can you be so selfish?”

“Oh, now I’m being selfish? I’m doing this for you, man! So you can go to your fucking med school and Meg can go to her fucking Juilliard and Dad doesn’t have to take out a third mortgage on the house!”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s the truth.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m taking responsibility for myself and if you can’t handle the fact that you’re still dependent on mom and dad for money while I’m not, it’s your problem dude, not mine.”

“Stop fucking lying to me, Jared Tristan!! You think running away from home like this, living away from your family and friends here in a fucking shelter is your penance for what happened. To Alan…”

“Shut up.”

“But we all know that accident wasn’t your fault, kiddo. I get it, Alan was your best friend. But you can’t punish yourself for something you didn’t even do…”

“I said shut up, just shut up!!”

“It was not your fault, Jared! You were not drunk. The kid in the other car was. Justin’s the one who jumped the light. Not you.”

“I should have seen him coming. I should have seen him coming, instead of fucking with the stupid radio.”

“Jared…”

“You say it wasn’t my fault. Then how do you explain everything that’s happened to me? I’m a cripple with no future, a liability to everyone. God is punishing me and you know it.”

“That doesn’t make sense! What do you think God’s punishing Alan and his family for, huh?”

“For trusting me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Don’t come after me again.”

“No, listen to me… Jared!”

“Maybe I’ll come home in October.  _Everybody goes home in October_.” 

“…”

“Later. Big brother.”

 

***************  
***************

  
_I should leave. I really should leave._

Jared lies on his side, staring out the window at the sky as it pours its heart out. He remembers this little fable he once read, a long time ago. A tragic love story, of the sky who loves the earth and how she loves him back. And even though their love is strong and eternal, it’s in vain because never the twain can meet…

Jensen shifts behind him, his arm tightening its grip around Jared’s waist. He’s comfortable here, encircled by Jensen’s body warmth, feels safe. Like nothing can get to him anymore. Like he’s untouchable.

Looks up at the little black speck on the corner of the ceiling above. It’s been three hours. And they’re still watching. 

A long, leisurely kiss pressed into the side of his face lets him know Jensen is awake. Jared was the first to come to but he’d also been the first to fall asleep, after Jensen spent twenty minutes patiently massaging his knee and iced all his pains away. The only place that throbs incessantly is his ass, but that one he likes. 

He’s never liked it before. Not since he made out with Chad Murray behind the bleachers on junior prom night.

“You’re so tense.” 

The voice whispers in his ear, and Jared shivers. 

“Is this… uncomfortable?”

No. Yes. Extremely. He wants to leave, only, he doesn’t. 

“I just… this is new.”

“What?”

Jared closes his eyes, and sighs. “No one’s held me like this before.”

There is silence for a whole minute, then Jensen is the one who exhales. Pulls Jared closer into himself, one arm stays under and one around his waist. Jensen must have slipped out of his clothes while Jared slept. Pleased, he presses back into the naked furnace-hot skin behind, and entangles his legs with bare legs just as warm. 

Jared thinks he could stay like this forever, if he could. 

Jensen is tanned where he is pale. Jensen is muscular where he is lean. Jensen is fire, he’s cold as ice. Jensen’s untainted and valuable, Jared is… 

Earth and sky, sky and earth. Except, he’s more like a speck of dirt buried somewhere in the deepest, darkest bowels of the planet.

_Leave. Get up now and leave._

“I’m going to fuck you again.”

Jensen’s voice is gentle as ever, but he isn’t asking this time. Jared shudders, starts to get back on his knees but Jensen isn’t letting go. 

“Like this. Be easier.”

_On your knee_ , but that part remains unspoken for which Jared is glad. Jensen pulls his arm away, reaches out behind him for lube and another condom. Jared’s butt is already glued to Jensen’s crotch, feels the hardening member nestled between his buttocks. He lifts one leg up, folding his bad knee towards his chest to make space for Jensen inside. 

“Tell me if it hurts.”

“Okay.”

Slick fingers enter him again preparing him needlessly, not that Jared appears to have a say either way. Jensen kisses the side of his face, licking at the mole on the corner of his mouth until Jared cranes his neck and locks his lips on lips. It’s a piece of heaven on his tongue, the distinct taste of Jensen he’ll never forget. Long after this night is forgotten. 

His prostate is teased repeatedly until he whimpers impatiently around Jensen’s tongue in his mouth. Jensen pulls away just long enough to replace his fingers with himself, then locks his lips over Jared’s mouth, mimicking with his tongue the same slow languorous thrusting as below. Jared undulates his hips squeezing and contracting around Jensen eagerly, making the older man the first to moan. 

Jared smirks, thinks he could fall in love with that mouth pleading for mercy. Thinks he could fall in love period. It scares him, and he looks away with a wide-eyed start. 

Jensen’s hand wanders down to the navel that he now knows is a freakishly sensitive erogenous zone for Jared. The hand eventually moves lower, teasing and stroking but conveniently ignores the blooming erection curling upwards, starving for friction. Jared tries to jerk himself off but Jensen pats his hand away. 

“Put your hands on your chest.”

“Ackles…”

“Cross them, palms on your chest.”

Fuck! Why can’t he just tell the guy to fuck off?

Jared does as he’s told. 

“Play with your nipples.”

“Oh God…”

His right hand’s fingers close around his left nub, and left hand’s fingers play with the right. It’s a torture so sweet, so agonizing, that once he starts he never wants to stop. Closes his eyes, lets his head fall back on Jensen’s shoulder. Forgets his worries and submits to his primal nature that hasn’t felt this uninhibited in years. Nothing but Jensen around him, inside him… nothing else matters. 

“Harder… Jen… harder, ah!! AH!!”

Jared comes first again, gasping and grunting, fingernails digging into his own skin around the now red and tender nipples. Spent at last, his hips come to a full stop, refusing to meet Jensen’s thrusts anymore. 

“Jare’… move, you selfish little…”

He chuckles without opening his eyes, “You’re on your own, pal.”

Jensen curses again but there’s no malice in his words. Playfully pinches Jared’s butt and brings a hand around to tease the still leaking head of Jared’s recently spent cock. Jared jerks away almost violently.

“Don’t!”

Whacks a hand on Jensen’s flank behind him when he hears the crackling laughter. Can’t help it that he’s so ridiculously sensitized right after an orgasm. 

“Help me out here, Jare’…” And he grabs at him again. 

“Okay! Okay! Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Jared starts to move once again, milking the man inside him with everything he’s got, squeezing the very life out of him. In response, Jensen tightens his arms around Jared near frantically. 

“Fuck! Holy… fuck!!” 

He doesn’t last too long after that, spiraling faster until he finds his second release of the night, grunting his sated exhaustion loud enough for all of Mayflower to hear. Jared catches himself smirking, more than a little proud of himself for making Ackles react like a virgin newly debauched.

After a while Jensen licks at the pulse point in his neck, bites down with deliberate intent and Jared sighs. What’s the point in marking him for just a couple of hours? Come morning they’ll both go their own ways. Jared stills then, eyes running back to the camera. Not so long ago he’d been wishing this night would end. Now he prays may morning never come.

“I wish I could stay inside you forever.”

The voice is a soft rasp, guttural and breathy and sounding altogether too out of it for Jared to take seriously. 

_No, you don’t._  

Empty words from a man who’d built a billion-dollar empire for himself on the very business of words. Surely said empire could brave a few storms of sex scandals and still get back on its feet. What’s the loss of a few millions to this man, anyway? This won’t ruin Jensen forever, will it? 

_Think of what twenty grand can do for you._

Eventually Jensen pulls out, leaving Jared feeling strangely empty and almost incomplete. He turns within the loosening bondage of Jensen’s arms so he can face the guy at last. 

Jensen is… a vision. More so than ever before.

He’s flushed and dripping with sweat and his lips are swollen red ‘cause he’s bitten them through himself, like Jared. And his eyelashes are still impossibly long, casting shadows on his own cheeks in the dim luminescence of the lamps. His breathing is shallow, and rapid, and when Jared flattens his palm against his heart, he can feel it beating as loud as the thunder outside. Jared swallows. In this moment right here and now, the sky doesn’t seem so unattainable after all. 

Jensen pants and grins widely. “You called me Jen.”

“You called me Jare’.”

_No one’s called me that in years. Not since Alan…_

He clears his throat. “You moan like a girl when you come.”

“And you moan like a porn star. You’ve been practicing, haven’t ya?”

“…”

“I’m kidding! Jesus, zero sense of humor.”

Jared pretends his heart didn’t just stop, punches him in the gut and Jensen lets out a mock “oof” and laughs. 

“You call this offensive, lame underhanded brand of insults, humor?”

“Okay, now you better not turn into a girl on me, man.”

“Oh! And what sort of experience do  _you_  have with  _girls_ , Mr. Ackles?”

He’s just teasing, he’s not curious about the ex-wife, or any of Jensen’s past relationships for that matter. Not at all. 

Jensen smirks, lifts his left hand until it’s right in Jared’s face. “See this?” 

He holds up his ring finger, it’s empty, but one can still see the pale band of skin while the rest of his hand is a golden tan. It’s the kind of depression mark a recently taken off ring would leave. 

Jared swallows, pretends to be shocked. “You were married?”

Jensen isn’t smirking anymore, nods subtly, spacing out as he stares at the mole on the side of Jared’s nose with great interest. 

“What happened? She found out you were gay?”

He smiles then, almost sadly, gathers Jared closer to himself. “You think you’re so smart, kid, but no. She always knew I was bi. We’ve known each other since kindergarten, at least.”

That’s not the story creepy blond guy told Jared. Not that he believed it even for a second. “Then what?”

“I loved her, with all my heart. But she couldn’t get over this guy she dated back in high school and way,  _way_  before I came into the picture. For whatever reasons, they broke up. But then few years after marrying me, this guy sauntered back into our lives.”

“Wait…  _she_  cheated on  _you_?”

Jensen chuckles, “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

And then he gets serious. “Believe it or not, I’ve always been a one-woman man. Or a one-man man, whichever. And yeah I was pissed, obviously. I was a mess when she left. But I knew how great she and this other guy used to be together before, and that no matter what I did, I couldn’t possibly take his place in her heart. Ever.” 

Jared stares into that face, so serene and yet so poignant. His sadness tugs at Jared’s heart.

“I couldn’t possibly make her as happy as that schmuck makes her.”

Jared snorts before he can stop it. “I doubt that very much.”

Jensen looks back into his eyes.  _There_. There’s that unnamed something again, it makes Jared want to bury himself in Jensen’s arms and never leave.

Jensen kisses him softly, sensually. Jared closes his eyes and gives in, letting the ecstasy of the moment overwhelm everything else. Suckles calmly on Jensen’s tongue in his mouth, while Jensen runs his fingers down his jaw, caressing the soft skin at the back of his ears. Jared moans and delves further into the kiss with passion, rubbing his cheek into Jensen’s five o’clock shadowed chin. Relishing the burn as it scrapes his baby smooth skin. 

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

Jared grins. “One of a kind.”

Jensen smiles again, completely genuine and  _true_. It opens up a bottomless pit in Jared’s stomach and Jared wishes he could implode into himself and disappear, forever. 

He doesn’t deserve this truth. 

“I’ll go grab a quick shower, can’t sleep without one,” Jensen says as he slips out of bed, unclasping his watch to leave it on the bedside table. As an afterthought he adds, “Care to join me, Padalecki?”

Jared is sorely tempted. Besides he’s covered in his own jizz, sticky and smelly and not disgusting yet but getting there fast. 

“You go ahead. I’ll join you in a bit.”

“Okay.”

Jensen suddenly jumps back onto the bed and nuzzles into his belly button, making Jared gasp and laugh. But before he can find the breath to protest, Jensen’s off and on his way to the bathroom. 

His smile immediately vanishes. It was supposed to be a  _job_ , damn it. Just a simple job. 

Thunder rolls again, the sky’s still lit up somewhere in the bleak distance. Wonder what the earth did this time that the sky’s raging in so much pain. Jared swallows around the giant lump of misery lodged in his throat and closes his eyes for a minute, just for a minute. 

It is raining cats and dogs outside and he can barely see beyond a couple of feet. Alan sits shotgun as always, and the guys in the back are singing some stupid girlie pop song at the top of their piss-drunk tone-deaf voices. The worse they sing, the louder they laugh. 

_You had me several years ago, when I was still quite naïve_  
Well, you said we made such a pretty pair, and that you would never leave  
But you gave away the things you loved, and one of them was me … 

He knows the exact moment it happens, just after Alan goes “… clouds in my coffee, clouds in my… Jare’ look out!”

He’s seen the truck hurtle towards him before, countless times now, sees it every day that he isn’t dead tired from sucking cocks all night. He keenly remembers the look of helpless horror on Justin Hartley’s face as the truck he’s driving rams into Alan’s Pontiac at seventy miles an hour. Except tonight, Jared sees his own face where Justin’s should have been. 

Jared rams into his own self, killing his best friend in the process. 

After turning over three and a half times, the overturned car finally skids to a halt against an oak tree. Bleeding and broken and barely conscious, he already knows Alan’s dead. Of course he does, it’s a nightmare that hasn’t evolved in four years. He turns to look at the lifeless form beside him anyway, because that’s his penance, he must _see_. That is the due he must pay for the rest of his life, because  _he_  survived. 

Except this time, the dead one isn’t Alan. It’s Jensen.

Jared wakes up with a jolt and a soundless scream on his lips.

_I don’t wanna hurt you, ever._

He walks in through the open door and another version of the sound of running water attacks his senses. The bathroom is massive, a fucking palace in itself. The lights are bright and a flattering yellow, and a big fat showerhead is stuck up there in the sky-high ceiling itself. Jensen stands with his back to the door, the remnants of his ivory soap washing down his magnificent body. 

Jensen doesn’t even start when two hands land on the small of his back, skirting around to the front and to his rock-hard pectorals. Jared pushes in closer from behind, leaning all his weight against the older man. Rests his forehead on a shoulder and strives to breathe normally but fails. Pretty sure the sound of the hot torrent is louder than the crazed beating of his heart, Jensen won’t possibly know. 

He’s wrong again. 

Jensen turns and his smile vanishes. Tugs Jared closer to himself and under the water and his eyes ask a thousand questions. 

“I’m… I…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Cam-Cam…”

“Breathe, Jared. Just breathe…”

Water blurs his vision until he can’t really see Jensen’s face and so he reaches out blindly, grabs the trusting man and pulling him into a desperate embrace. Buries his face in a shoulder as a last ditch attempt to muffle the words but they just keep getting louder, even as Jensen turns the shower off. 

“Jared?”

“Ca-Cameras.”

Jensen stiffens under his hands, and it only makes Jared grip him harder.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry….”

Jared doesn’t have the guts to look into that face twisted in rage and disappointment at him. He doesn’t know what it might look like and he doesn’t wanna know. God he doesn’t wanna leave, he doesn’t wanna stay, he doesn’t wanna be the cause of pain or worry to Jensen. Not to this man who’s shown him more kindness and affection than he’s known ever since he ran away from home. Not to this man who treated him with such care and dignity when he clearly deserved none. 

Not to this man that he thinks he could love, that he  _knows_  he could love. 

“Jared…”

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, I’m sorry._

Feels two hands clawing at him, struggling to pry him away. For a split-second he wonders if Jensen might maybe turn violent, and if Jared would really blame him if he did.

“Hey, hey, look at me.”

He lets go at last, lowers his face in shame. Snot threatens to run down his nose but his arms are held captive in Jensen’s strong grips and still he can’t look up. 

“I know.”

The words burn into him, slowly. Surely Jensen didn’t mean…? He looks up then. “What did you say?”

The face is blank. Not happy, not sad, not angry. Nothing. 

Blank. Eerily so. 

“I know. I’ve known all week.”

 

***************  
***************

 

“Danni… please stop pacing, you’re giving me a headache.”

“How can you be like that? Jensen, didn’t you hear what I just said? I’m a stupid fucking bitch who can’t keep her big fucking mouth shut when she’s drunk!! Why aren’t you fucking mad?”

“Because… I don’t know! So you shouldn’t have had so much to drink and especially with Sterling not in town…”

“It was a girl’s night out…”

“Oh, so now you’re making excuses?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Jeez, come here. I’m sorry sweetheart. You were drunk and the guy basically took advantage of you. I’m just glad nothing else happened. It could have been so much worse.”

“You’re really not mad?”

“Sure I’m mad, but not at you. It’s that sonofabitch, Jeff Morgan. Can’t believe the lengths he’s going to, just ‘cause he’s too much of a wimp to face Achilles in the professional ring.”

“You and Tom really pissed him off taking that Yahoo deal away from him, I guess.”

“Yeah. But it’s more than that. He just hates our guts or something. So, okay, tell me if I got this right. He was partying Friday night at the Manor, same as you?”

“Yeah.”

“And he came over to say hi, and you guys got to talking and you fell for all his charming bullshit.”

“Well… he can be quite charming when he wants to.”

“Sure, whatever. And you end up talking about your ex-husband?!?”

“Uh, I don’t remember much but I think he was the one who kept coming back to you. And I guess I just forgot who he was at some point and blurted out that you were bi. And, um, I might have also mentioned that…”

“That?”

“That you have a thing for the wounded slash vulnerable smarty pants types?!?”

“I do not!”

“Hello, Exhibit A?”

“You think you’re smart?”

“…”

“OW!! Relax, woman! I’m just kidding. What happened next?”

“Can’t remember. I must have passed out or something and Tracie took me back home. The next morning when I woke up, I remembered what I’d done. So I tried calling him up, only he went away and was unavailable all weekend and Jensen you’ve no idea how miserable I’ve been these past three days. And so when this morning I heard that he was back…”

“You gunned it all the way to his office, hoping what? That you could just sweet-talk him into keeping my big secret?”

“Um, yeah? Except, when I got to his office and was standing right outside his door, I overheard this conversation he was having with that mousy little PA of his. What’s his name? Masters?”

“Marsters. With an ‘r’.”

“Yeah him. He said he found an insider at the Mayflower who’s gonna let the tech team in and also let them know what suite you’re staying at. And they were looking at a book of maybe… pictures? And Jeff said something like - look at those big goofy eyes. Ackles won’t be able to resist him.”

“Really? Did you get a look at the guy? Was he hot?”

“Jensen!”

“Kidding! What else?”

“Marsters has apparently given this man a whole dossier of stuff to read up on you. And he’s going to pretend to be a Carnegie Mellon political science major when he meets you in Washington next week and…”

“Did you catch a name?”

“Well, it’s highly unlikely he’d use his real name to seduce you.”

“I know. But until next week, I might as well get some recon done of my own on their prostitute pawn of choice.”

“Ooh, good idea. It was a weird last name. I’ve never heard anything like it. Jared something. Jared… Paddy…”

“Paddy bear?”

“Paddy or Pada… somethin’…”

“Danneel, this is important.”

“Give me a minute, dude. You crank up that Google thingie of yours, I’ll just get back to you with it. Pada… Palicki?”

“Are you sure you heard it ri…”

“Shush!”

 

***************  
***************

 

(tbc)

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**  
  
***************  
  
The bathroom’s nearly the same size as the bedroom. There isn’t an actual bathtub, only a gigantic depression in the floor in one corner with those funky water jets in the walls around its perimeter. Gigantic, but not long enough for Jared or Jensen to stretch out completely in. Not deep enough for Jared to drown himself either, no matter how hard he tried.  
  
There is a tall window with a ledge just across the jacuzzi, revealing a grand view of the city from what feels like the top of the world. Feels like he’s in a condo in the sky surrounded by thick dark gathering rainclouds. Lightning flashes so close, he winces his eyes shut against the frightful brilliance.   
  
“Sit.”  
  
Jensen is ordering him about again. Fucker. Jared does as he’s told.   
  
He sits on the edge of the ledge, legs pressed together. Hunches over with his forearms resting on his thighs, hides himself as best as he can. Doesn’t look up. Wheezes because his lungs are paralyzed and his brain’s too stunned to do anything about it.   
  
Ackles knows. Ackles knew.   
  
Jensen wraps a big white towel around his waist, pearl drops glistening on his torso as they quietly slither down to meet their demise in the folds of the lush fabric. He holds out another towel to Jared, who after a few seconds realizes he’s still naked, and takes it. Puts it on his lap, absently pulls up a corner to his chest. Hugs it like it’s the only friend he’s got left in the whole world.   
  
That may quite possibly be true.  
  
Jensen paces, rubs at his chin with a palm. Other hand poised at his hipbone teasingly visible just above the edge of the towel. Jared looks away, not sure what to do. What to say. Where to look.   
  
He already knew. It’s a relief far greater than he’d hoped. It’s a slap in his face far harder than he’d imagined.  
  
“H-How did you…?”  
  
Jensen scoffs. “I didn’t build Achilles up from the ground with my Daddy’s money, you know.”  
  
Of course. Nothing stays secret from the media. Jared feels suitably rebuked, he looks down and swallows. “Then why?”  
  
Jensen stops pacing, stares at Jared like he’s seeing him for the very first time. “Why what?”  
  
 _Why did you ask me out? Why did you bring me back to your room? Why did you let them catch you on camera? Why did you lie to me and string me along all fucking night?_  
  
Jared shudders, keeps his eyes lowered. Jensen could ask him the same thing, and at least his answer is simple. Twenty thousand dollars.   
  
Jensen’s voice, when he speaks, is soft like velvet, stinging like nettles. “It was Friday night. I was bored.”  
  
Huh. Jared bites his wibbling lip; guess Jensen’s answer is simpler after all.  
  
“I spent the whole week sidestepping you, avoiding you, making sure you never got a chance and just nip this whole nonsense in the bud. But that bastard sure knew what he was doing when he chose you.”  
  
Is that supposed to be a compliment to Marsters or to Jared?   
  
“I had a good week, the conference was great. But it was a  _conference_  and it gets dull after the first couple of minutes. This… this was the most excitement I got all week, watching you.”  
  
 _You mean watching me squirm. Watching me make a fool out of myself. Watching me fail, time and time again._  
  
Jared can’t believe how foolish he’s been. And here he thought he was doing the right thing - barging into the shower thinking he was going to save Jensen from a humiliating ordeal that could potentially destroy his career. Even if it meant risking his disappointment, his scorn and disgust for what Jared is.   
  
His face flushes anew. He  _knew_. He knew all along what he is.   
  
“It doesn’t bother you that they got you… on tape?”  
  
“They got you too. Doesn’t it bother  _you_?”  
  
Jared tries to shrug. What’s he got to lose anyway? He hasn’t seen his parents in four years. Hasn’t spoken to his brother and sister in three. They probably stopped looking for him long ago.   
  
“Or are you the exhibitionist type? Looking to break into the gay porn industry maybe?”  
  
Jared blinks the flash flood away, swallows in vain around the giant angry lump in his throat. “Fuck you.”  
  
And that’s all he can manage. The silence that follows is long and uncomfortable, until Jensen quietly mumbles. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Jared turns away then, wraps his arms tighter around his chest. Once upon a time he could afford to hold all his grudges, big or small, for a very, very long time. He doesn’t have the ego (nor the energy) to do it anymore. And besides, he’s heard worse.   
  
“I got tech teams too you know. Before we went out to the steakhouse, I got Steve to call one over.”  
  
“Steve? The bartender?”  
  
Jensen’s face pulls into a smirk. “And a freelancer. I happen to be all of his preferred clientele.”   
  
 _I got me some of those too. Should have stuck with them._  
  
“Have you seen Ocean’s Eleven? The new one?”  
  
What the fuck?  
  
“They make a static recording of the duplicate vault, then hack into the hotel’s transmission network and keep playing it back on loop so the security guys never get to know what’s really happening down there. And they’re able to break into the vault invisibly. Remember?”  
  
Jensen waits, and Jared continues to play dumb. They glare at each other for a few seconds. He wonders if Jensen sees the same accusation in his eyes that he sees in Jensen’s.  
  
“Your room and mine were rigged, and we rigged  _their_  rig. Far as Morgan and his dogs know, we never came back to our rooms tonight.”  
  
“Morgan?” As in - Jeffrey ‘no comment’ Morgan?  
  
Jensen frowns. Steps in closer just as Jared flinches back. “You really didn’t know?”  
  
Hell, apparently, Jared didn’t know  _anything_. And Jensen knew everything. His head feels light and thinks maybe he’d feel better if he could just throw up. If only there was something in his stomach to throw up…   
  
“What did Marsters tell you?”  
  
Awesome. He knows Marsters too. “He said he worked for your ex-wife.”  
  
Jensen laughs. And even if it’s sort of forced and sort of dripping with sarcasm, it’s still the same sparkling sound from before that had easily sliced through the raging thunder outside, made everything okay for awhile. Now it just makes Jared angry. His shoulders rise and fall as his breaths find root in his lungs again.   
  
“You switched transmissions to keep them occupied? Why not just call him on it and be done with it? Why go through this charade?”  
  
Jensen crosses his arms, one eyebrow arching up proudly. “And miss out on all the fun? All the different ways I could use his own people on his own time to get some well-deserved payback? No fucking way, man. Never underestimate the power of  _miscommunication_. I’ve got him running around chasing his own tail for the next six months at least.”  
  
He looks up just in time to catch the dangerous glint in Jensen’s eyes. No remorse.  _Does he see any in mine?_    
  
“What about everything you said? All that time you spent lecturing me on ethics and obligations to the truth, all that time… you’d been lying?”  
  
Ackles looks hassled now, cornered. Furious.   
  
“Look who’s talking. You do this for a profession for fuck’s sake, Padalecki! I was minding my own business, but you came here to trap me!”  
  
And now he’s pissed too. “You’re the one who came on to me at the bar. Hell I just warned you about the fucking bugs…”  
  
“And what exactly did you do that for?”  
  
Toes curl up on the polished marble floor defensively, but he can’t bring himself to look away.   
  
 _Go ahead. Tell him, Jared. What the hell did you that for anyway?_  
  
Such a stupid, stupid fool. With stupid, foolish hopes, and foolish dreams of staircases that go all the way up to the sky…   
  
Emotions run amok in his gut burbling up into his throat. Pushes everything down with a vengeance, everything that is, but rage.  
  
“Because when you were going on and on about truth and justice and all that bullshit you never believed in yourself, I was actually listening to you!”  
  
Jensen scoffs, his eyes hardening in return. “I can’t believe  _you’re_  acting so fucking self-righteous! Man you should be grateful I didn’t call the…”  
  
Ackles bites his lip, but the damage is done. Jared curls his trembling fingers around the ledge on each side to restrain himself. Because if got up and charged the bastard in his blind red rage, he really would call them damn cops.  
  
“Go ahead. Call the cops, blow this whole shit wide open and let everyone know you’re a fucking homo so Morgan wins anyway, you fucking hypocrite.”  
  
His heart thunders so loud in his chest, he thinks it might just explode. Ackles uncrosses his arms and looks at him like he’s poison. Or scum. Poisonous scum. “You don’t get to judge me. Not  _you_.”  
  
“And you do? Why? Because you went to fucking Wharton?”  
  
“Why are you so mad, Jared? Huh? Is it because I turned the tables on you? Or is it because you got fucked twice for nothing?”  
  
His eyes keep threatening to water, but he isn’t going to let them. Won’t give the guy the fucking satisfaction. Not when he knows what Ackles plans to do after he leaves DC in the morning.   
  
He is going to laugh at him, just like he’ll laugh at Morgan. Make a mockery of Jared in front of his friends, the dumbfuck rentboy he screwed for free. The slut that fell for his brilliant ‘tune in and trust me’ speech so hard he forgot to do his job. And he’ll be just another funny story for a month or so…   
  
And then he’ll forget all about him. Hell, what’s there to remember anyway?  
  
“You know you remind me of this asshole I hustled back when I’d just started. The kind that fucks first then finds an excuse to not pay up. You ask me why I’m mad? I’m mad because you’re an asshole, Mr. Ackles. And you just lost my fucking subscription.”   
  
He sees the nerve in Ackles’ neck twitching. The silence lasts for about five acutely uncomfortable seconds.  
  
“Too bad.”  
  
Suddenly Ackles is stalking towards him. Jared winces as his wrist is grabbed and he’s roughly pulled up to his feet. The towel slips and falls to the floor and he’s dragged naked and wet out into the bedroom.  
  
“Stop it! Jensen, what are you doing?”  
  
There’s terror (and resignation) in his voice, maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut after all. Ackles doesn’t respond, just keeps dragging until they’re back in the bedroom and shoves him not so lightly towards the pile of his clothes on the floor.   
  
“I’m not gonna be the asshole who didn’t pay you for a good fuck, Padalecki.”  
  
Ackles turns away momentarily and Jared closes his eyes. His hands stay balled into fists on his sides but he doesn’t move. He can’t be weak. Must not be weak.  
  
The older man pulls out a table drawer, and he hears scribbling of pen on paper. Then a fierce rip so loud it startles his eyes open.   
  
“Thank you for doing me the  _great_  favor of warning me about the fucking bugs  _after_  the actual taping. And here’s the compensation Morgan’s not gonna give you.”  
  
He holds a check in his outstretched hand. “It’s blank. You can fill up whatever amount you like.”  
  
“…”  
  
“Take it. After all, you’ve earned every penny.”  
  
“…”  
  
Ackles runs out of patience soon enough. Flings the check to the floor just on top of Jared’s jeans. Jared resolves not to be the one to break eye contact first, and he doesn’t.   
  
“I want you gone.”   
  
It’s a whisper - hoarse, cold, and hopeless. Jensen Ackles turns his back to him one last time, storms back into the bathroom and locks the door behind him.   
  
  
***************  
***************  
  
  
“Dude! What the hell are you doing?”  
  
“Well, seeing as Morgan went to so much trouble organizing me this hot little date, might as well sample the goods don’t you think?”  
  
“Jensen, be careful. He’s not as innocent as he looks.”  
  
“I know, Stevie. Here, keep my tie. Don’t lose it, I love it.”  
  
“What exactly do you know about him anyway?”  
  
“Well for one, he hasn’t exactly lied to me yet. Used his real name. It’s pronounced ‘Pad-uh-lecki’ by the way. Told me he teaches basketball to twelve-year olds by day, which is about right. Left out the tiny detail about walking the streets by night, obviously.”  
  
“Obviously. What else?”  
  
“Threw away a potential NBA career over a bad case of DUI. Probably got kicked out or something after that. Allie spoke to his mom on the phone and she hasn’t heard from him in years.”  
  
“Allie? Isn’t she and uh, Welling…?”  
  
“Yep, he’s the one.”  
  
“Lucky sonofabitch. Okay listen, good call on taking him out of the hotel. You never know who here’s clicking you two with their 1.5 Meg fucking cellphones. But don’t take your car. They’ve been watching it all week, hoping you’d go out one of these nights to that big gay club in Georgetown. Take mine if you want, and stop sniggering.”  
  
“Thanks man but it’s okay, we’re walking.”  
  
“Good. But stay away from the main roads please.”  
  
“Fine, I’ll find another way, dig one if I have to. Listen, can you call in Mike and his team?”  
  
“Dude! Really??”  
  
“Ee-yeah… maybe. You never know. Tell him to call me in like an hour and I’ll let him know which room but, ask him to prep ‘em both anyway.”  
  
“Just promise me you’ll be careful…”  
  
“Relax, Carlson! Besides I ain’t the one you should be worryin’ about if you know what I mean…”  
  
“Ackles…”  
  
“I’m kidding! Don’t look at me like that.”  
  
“Oh God, look at  _him_. Fucking preening away for you. This kid could be so much trouble…”  
  
“Honestly? Man I don’t know, I don’t think so. There’s just something about him. I just… feel like I wanna get to know him more. He's younger than I expected but his eyes, his eyes they… look so old…”  
  
  
***************  
***************  
  
  
Jared hasn’t spoken a word in three days. Not since he left Washington and came back to his apartment in Jersey City. Back to his old,  _real_  life. Feels like nothing’s changed. It’s all just the way he’d left it. Everything’s still the same.  
  
Except him.   
  
He stares at a reflection in the bathroom mirror, but doesn’t recognize himself. He forgets to pull on his warm jacket when he steps out at night and barely notices the cold. Reaches the empty court, ice solidifying around the edges, glistening in the dull light of a weak lamppost at the corner. This court, this school and his students - feels like these are the only things in his life holding him together, he’s been more than ready to fall apart for years now. Doesn’t know what he’d do if he ever lost this job.   
  
A whole minute passes before he realizes it’s Sunday, and it’s way after dark. The kids won’t be coming out to play tonight.   
  
Marsters calls, but Jared doesn’t bother to pick up. After six unanswered rings, he leaves a message.   
  
“You disappointed me, Jared.”   
  
Jared scoffs.  _Tell me something I don’t know._  
  
“You can keep all the stuff you bought at my expense. Consider it payment for your time and for your discretion. I hope we understand each other.”  
  
Discretion, what’s that?  _Sorry, guess I failed English in high school too._  
  
“This phone number will be de-activated after this call. Don’t try to reach me. I’ll keep you in mind if we ever need your…  _services_  again.”  
  
Jared barely moves. The entendre falls flat, useless. After Ackles, he doesn’t think anyone else’s words could ever succeed in insulting him again. All his defiance is spent. His will to defend destroyed.  
  
“Oh and don’t bother trying to use the credit card either. It’s been canceled.”   
  
The message ends at last. Jared stands, hugging himself numb. Staring at the rusting hoop in the sky, until his crippled knee can’t stand the weight of his broken dreams anymore.   
  
Reaches his door with key ready in hand out of habit, except he doesn’t need it. There’s a bullet hole where the keyhole should be, and the door is slightly ajar. He doesn’t get the time to react or panic, the door opens completely and Rocco’s ugly mug comes into view.   
  
Shit.   
  
The goon grabs him before he can run, pulls him inside and shoves him roughly to the floor face down. Jared barely manages to brace himself on his hands, saving his face from taking the brunt of the forceful thrust.   
  
“There you are!”  
  
He doesn’t need to look up any further, he’d recognize that voice and the filthy green boots two inches away from his face anywhere.   
  
Spence.  
  
“Thought you bailed on me, freak. You know you’re not supposed to do that. If you want to live, that is.”  
  
“I… I just…”  
  
Rocco pulls him up to his feet and punches him a couple of times. Jared knows he’s weak and nowhere close to the other man’s build or strength. But he fights back anyway, a natural instinct that never really went away. Only he forgets that Sebastian’s goons always travel in packs.   
  
“Watch the face, boys. That’s my bread and butter you’re beating the shit out of.”  
  
The blows keep falling but he keeps refusing to yield. Then someone crushes his knee with a baseball bat and he screams. Falls to the floor curling into a fetal position, protecting what’s left of his limb, writhing in pain so excruciating, he nearly passes out. They’ve always known that was the way to crush his rebellion.   
  
Sebastian laughs. A low, jarring hyena-like sound even his own men quietly grimace at. Gets up from the nineteen-year old couch and crouches down close to where Jared lies on the floor.   
  
The king pimp pulls Jared’s face up by the hair, painfully. His breath is rank with cheap cigarettes and scotch.  
  
“You’ve been gone six days, boy. A little birdie tells me you might be working jobs of your own. Not trying to cut me out of my hard earned money, are you?”  
  
“N-No…”  
  
Pulls his hair again mercilessly, another hand suddenly slaps down hard on his butt and Jared grunts. Spits out blood and bites his lip, not in the mood to give  _this_ sonofabitch any satisfaction either.   
  
“Search everything.”  
  
They turn everything inside out. Check his tiny wardrobe, the drawers, rip his mattress open, break all breakable objects in the room. His apartment is wrecked and still they find nothing. No brochures, no airplane tickets or tags, no new clothes (he hid everything including the Ralph Lauren underwear someplace these brainless idiots would never think of). No cash. No blank checks.   
  
“Anything?”  
  
“Nada, boss.”  
  
“Come on now. Talk to me. Where did you go off to, huh, freak?”  
  
Jared pretends the hand still fondling his ass is not Spence’s and stays silent. He can’t tell him that Marsters was the one who went around the pimp’s organization and tracked Jared down all on his own, with the help of nothing but his mug shot in Spence’s dirty catalog. And Jared obviously can’t admit to taking the job, the payoff for which was simply too good to pass on, or share.  
  
“You know if you wanted to take some time off, you shoulda come to me! Got a serious new client, wants to take you away to Hawaii.”  
  
Jared winces, the pain in his knee still threatening to rob him of consciousness.   
  
“Likes to play rough, but I told him you’re a big boy, you can take it. You’d like that, won’t you, babyface? Sure you would… it’s why you’re my favorite little slut.”  
  
Spence smirks, squeezing his ass again, lot more forcefully. “Do you remember when I found you, huh? OD’ing on crack? Squatting with twelve other homeless junkies wrapped in old newspaper rags to keep yourself warm, hmm?”  
  
He closes his eyes, doesn’t wanna go back there. But Sebastian likes to rub it in, every damn time.   
  
“You’d be dead by now, if you didn’t have me watching out for ya, ain’t that right, Texas?”  
  
He’d rather be dead, he thinks, except he’s too much of a coward.  
  
“Listen to me boy, listen to my voice very carefully. If you ever try to leave me again, I’ll chop both your legs off at the knees. The whorehouse in Trenton needs a model for their disability catalog. Fix that freaky Sasquatchian height problem of yours too. Major turn-off for some people I know.”  
  
“N-No… please…”  
  
“Be ready at nine tomorrow night. Hawaiian’s comin’ for a test ride.”  
  
Spence presses a finger to his lips first and then the same finger to Jared’s lips in a vulgar mockery of a chaste kiss. Jared flinches hard, but there’s nothing he can do. This is his life now, the life he chose for himself, his penance that until three days ago didn’t quite seem enough.   
  
Then why does he find himself praying for it to end?   
  
 _Damn you, Ackles._    
  
The men clear out, Rocco whacking Jared’s head hard one last time before he goes. Behind them the door swings open and shut again and again, as a storm picks up outside. Jared holds his shattered knee in both hands and closes his eyes. The cold from the floor seeps through into him and he shivers, but nothing can stop the world from fading away to blessed blackness.  
  
**  
  
He’s back at the Wolf Creek court.   
  
The court he pretty much grew up on. The court Jeff took him to when he was seven and showed him how to throw his first ball through a not-elementary size hoop. The court where he and Alan first met when they were ten, disliked each other instantly. Butted heads over and over and over again. Until the day the sixth graders came. And they tried to bully their way in, kick the younger ones off the court. Alan and Jared became the talk of the town that day. Everyone talked about how they made one hell of a team, back then and ever since.  
  
That’s where he is now, gazing up at the hoop with longing. He feels small, tiny, and ring seems so far away. The ball’s huge in his little boy hands, he can barely hold on to it. He’s seven again.   
  
“Hey, Redster.”  
  
Jeff holds his larger, much larger index finger out for him to latch onto. “Time to go home now, baby bro. Come on…”  
  
He wants to take that finger, hold onto his big brother because, God, he misses Jeff so much. Only, if he did, if he let go, the ball will fall. And he can’t drop the ball…   
  
“Here,” A familiar voice calls from his left side, and Jared turns, looks up into the bright, smiling face. The one with the sandy brown hair and sparkling blue eyes.   
  
“Let me hold on to that for ya.”  
  
 _Alan._    
  
He is ten now, but Alan looks just the way he did when he saw him last, sitting next to him inside the mangled car…  
  
“It’s okay, Jare’. You can let go now.”  
  
Jared is eighteen now, and he’s running. Running with the basketball in his hands, to hell with the fucking rules. Running on useless legs, running because they’re giving chase, running because they don’t know what it’s like – surviving in the face of his failures, staring hopelessly into the endless voids of his life that can never be filled again.   
  
And so he just keeps running… on empty days and harrowing nights for weeks, months, years. Running because he can’t stop, and he can’t let go. Not yet.  
  
Something cold and prickling is dabbed into the side of his head and he hisses. Remembers the punches he took before Spence told his dogs not to pummel his face. Wishes for a shiner, then hisses again. And what the hell’s that smell? Iodine?  
  
“Shh, it’s okay.”  
  
Jared thinks he knows that voice, just not sure from where.  
  
“You awake? Open your eyes, Jared.”  
  
Why are people always telling him what to do? Jared flinches away, extremely unwilling to wake up just yet.  
  
“Hey, it’s okay, Redster.”  
  
His eyes fly open. Pretty sure he’s still dreaming because…  
  
“Jeff?”  
  
Jared looks around and every nerve in his face and neck aches. He’s still in his dingy little apartment. But someone’s moved him from the floor to the bed and covered him with his threadbare quilt. Bandaged his knuckles and inflamed knee.   
  
“Is that really you?”  
  
The older brother smiles, as he looks down at him from one side of the bed. Nods subtly, his eyes kind as he leans closer to Jared. “It’s me, little brother.”  
  
Jeff brushes the unruly hair back from a slightly swollen temple. “How’re you feeling? Does your head hurt?”  
  
Jared mutely shakes his head, still not sure if this was real or another hallucination. They must have kicked him in the head again.  
  
“Wow, you’ve grown so much,” the illusion says, the kind eyes running down to Jared’s toes before returning to his face again.  
  
“…”  
  
“I haven’t changed, have I? Put on a little weight maybe, yeah?”  
  
He looks at his brother real carefully then. When he speaks, he doesn’t recognize his own voice. “A little.”  
  
Jeff smiles, looks around the dump. His face is pinched tight like he’s doing his damndest to control an outburst of both rage and elation.   
  
“Some place you got here, huh, kiddo? Guess I could live with it. For awhile.”  
  
“…”  
  
“Can’t say the same for your  _friends_ , of course. Jesus. I missed you so much.”  
  
The tears start to fall then. Uncontrollable. Jared’s face contorts, at which Jeff rushes to gather him into his arms, pulls him up from the bed so Jared can hide his face in his brother’s neck and weep in peace. Jeff rocks him, soothes him, talks to him, the words are all utter nonsense but Jared craves them, clings to them like a dying man to the voice of God.   
  
“I’m so sorry…”  
  
“Shh… it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Time to go home now, kiddo.”  
  
A gasp turns particularly painful. “No! Please, I can’t…”  
  
“Alright, okay! We won’t go back home yet. How about Chicago instead? You can check out my new place, bunk with me for some time? Please say yes kiddo, please.”  
  
He doesn’t know if his consent is obvious through his shameful breakdown but Jeff seems to be satisfied enough, understanding that Jared’s not ready to face the past yet, or his folks. Or Alan’s folks.   
  
Truth is, Jared doesn’t want to live like this anymore. Stuck in this inescapable quicksand, with no way out in sight. He doesn’t think he could go on any longer with this constant dread in his heart, the feeling that he’s coasting in reverse, wasting away, and the painful awareness that if he died it would be no big loss to anyone anyway.   
  
Least of all, to Jensen.  
  
“I… I… don’t wanna be w-worthless anymore. Help me Jeff, p-please…”  
  
“I’m here, kiddo. I got you. I got you… hey, look at me Redster. Guess what?”  
  
“…”  
  
Jeff is smiling through his own tears. “It’s October.”  
  
 _Everybody goes home in October._  
  
Jared’s sobs are harder, like he hasn’t let them out in four years so they’re making the most of their short-lived freedom. And Jeff is holding him tighter.  
  
“Oh Jesus. Thank you. Thank you so much! God, Jared, I don’t know how we could ever thank your friend Allison.”  
  
He snivels. “Who?”  
  
“Allison Mack, your friend from school?”  
  
Jared frowns. Jeff seems reluctant to loosen his grip, but he has no choice when Jared pulls away. Just a bit.  
  
“This girl called Mom like, two weeks ago. Asking for you. Said she was an old friend of yours or something? Mom told her we hadn’t heard from you in four years.”  
  
Ms. Mack. A not so distant memory prickles at the back of his still muddled head.  
  
“And then she called up again this morning. Said she was a reporter in Manhattan now and that she’d used her sources to find out exactly where you were and that you might need our help. So Mom called me and I took the first flight out and…”   
  
 _Mr. Morgan! Thomas Welling, Vice President of Achilles once said that Morgan house should not be making any new product investments and concentrate on organic growth of your magazines instead. Do you agree?_  
  
“Jared? Hey… you okay?”  
  
  
***************  
***************  
  


“Boss? You okay?”  
  
“…”  
  
“I’ve never seen you so quiet before.”  
  
“Are you sure about this, Allison?”  
  
“Positive. Took me awhile to uncover the whole picture. Because it’s a partial juvenile delinquency case and because it involved so many of their local kids, the cops weren’t very willing to share all the sordid details. But yeah, I’m sure.”  
  
“…”  
  
“The kids were celebrating after winning the State Championship that night. All underage and drinking and one kid’s car hit another. A boy called Alan Cohen died on the spot. He was riding shotgun with Jared.”  
  
“But Jared was not drinking?”  
  
“I have a copy of his blood test right here. And his friends all backed him up. Apparently he was the only designated driver that night who took his job seriously.”  
  
“Then why did he tell me it was his fault?”  
  
“Maybe, he feels guilty? Alan Cohen was his best friend.”  
  
“…”  
  
“He’s got this huge, loving family and a great circle of friends that misses him. I mean, think about it – why on earth would a kid like that run away from home and live the life he does today?”  
  
“He’s punishing himself.”  
  
“He also hurt his left leg in the accident badly, truck crashed into his side of the car, and lost his scholarship to Duke’s. Apparently the kid lived and breathed basketball for nearly all his life. And then when he couldn’t anymore…”  
  
“Tell me about this Sebastian Spence.”  
  
“Guy’s a class one dirt-bag. Runs the entire prostitution ring in New Jersey. Girls and boys. Got the whole shebang covered – from streets to brothels to high-end escort agencies, nobody solicits in Jersey without paying him a commission.”  
  
“And he’s never been arrested?”  
  
“Sure he has. Got a rap sheet a mile long but just not enough to put him away for good. Walks free every time. You have to understand this guy’s not your everyday pimp. Got connections with the mafia apparently, and owns a fucking army of hitmen. Word on the streets is that nobody’s allowed to leave on their own. If you’re still fit to solicit, you better be dead if you want out. Don’t know if Jared’s ever tried, but he couldn’t possibly escape alive.”  
  
“…”  
  
“Boss?”  
  
“He was right, Allie. And I was so wrong. He couldn’t even bring himself to lie to me, and all the time I was lying through my teeth. Everything I presumed about this boy was dead wrong. I had no right to judge him, or anyone else for that matter.”  
  
“What are you…?”  
  
“Make the call. Tell the Padaleckis where their son is so they can take him home. We’ll take care of Spence and his goons in the meantime. Keep them too  _occupied_  to so much as think of going after him.”   
  
“How do you know he’s back in Jersey? Maybe he took the money and split? That’s what I’d do.”  
  
“This boy’s something else. I got a phone call from a Daniel Glover last night. He’s Principal of the Norman Middle School in Jersey City.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“Said he’d just received a check in the mail with my name and signature on it. Made in the name of the school for the amount of eighteen thousand dollars, the exact amount that they needed to build a music program and a basketball program for the school. He wanted to thank me for my generosity. And also verify that the check was legit, I guess.”  
  
“Oh…”  
  
“Make the call, Allie. And when you’re done, get to work on Spence. I want this flesh trade racket blown wide open, I wanna see him behind bars for the rest of his miserable fucking life.”  
  
“Will do. Uh, Jensen? Permission to speak freely?”  
  
“When have you not spoken freely, Allie? Kidding. Go on.”  
  
“I… well, we’ve been friends from way before I started working for you, right? And I just… we all saw what your break-up with Danneel did to you. You put up such a brave face when she left for the benefit of everyone else and I can only imagine how much that must have fucked you up inside. And since then, you’ve thrown yourself into your work and it’s been almost a year and you haven’t even looked at another woman. Or man, and…”  
  
“Is there a point to this rambling, Ms. Mack?”  
  
“Yes sir, there is.”  
  
“Would you like to get to it sometime this week?”  
  
“When did you take the ring off?”  
  
“W-What?”  
  
“Your wedding band. I saw you wearing it all year. When did you take it off?”  
  
“…”  
  
“Please answer me, Jensen.”  
  
“Last week. In Washington.”  
  
“…”  
  
“I… I spoke to Jared at the bar out of sheer curiosity, is all, but… next thing I knew I was asking him out to dinner. And that’s when I slipped it off and put it in my pocket. I don’t know why, I just…”  
  
“I think you  _do_  know.”  
  
“…”  
  
“You say it yourself all the time, Jensen. We’re Achilles. We don’t run and hide from the truth. We give chase, remember?”  
  
“Yes, of course. But, uh… you know how some people can’t multi-task?”  
  
“Are you saying you’ve got something more important than this boy on your mind?”  
  
“…”  
  
“Guess my work’s done here. Later, boss.”  
  
  
***************  
***************

 

(tbc)


	5. Chapter 5

 

**Part Five**  
  

***************

Today’s a special day. A day he never thought would come again, a day he’d never even hoped for. Today Jared feels something he hasn’t in four years.

Annoyed. Irritated. Seriously pissed off at his big brother.

It’s been two weeks since Jeff found Jared in Jersey City and carried him to the ER. Two weeks since the doctor prescribed complete bed rest and all weight to be kept off his battered knee. And if he needed to be moved at all, it couldn’t be on crutches.

It’s been two weeks, stuck in this stupid wheelchair. Jared wants out. And Jeff isn’t listening. 

“I need you to take it easy for a few more days, kiddo.”

He pouts as Jeff pulls a jacket over his green resident scrubs, and gets up from the breakfast table. “Do you want to go to the court today?”

Jared crosses his arms against his too thin chest and tries to stop his lower lip from jutting out again. Glares up at his big brother who, at his insane height of six seven, is giving him a serious crick in the neck. 

Jeff just chortles. “C’mon then, Redster. Where’s your ball?”

Jeff shares a decent two-story house with two other residents. The University of Chicago Medical Center is barely a ten-minute walk away. Not by Jared’s standards of course, ‘cause he still doesn’t walk. Hell he’s not even allowed to limp. 

“Patience, Red. You have to lay off it at least until I can get us an appointment with a specialist. You hear me?”

He hears him, but he doesn’t like what he’s hearing. Jared lets his brother roll him out the house and to the basketball court next door. It figures that Jeff would choose to stay so close to one – basketball scholarship was how he got to college himself. Too bad residents don’t get enough time off to play. 

Jeff kneels before him, puts the water bottle in one side pocket of the wheelchair, keys to the house, a copy of the Umberto Eco Jared is currently reading, and a cell phone in another. He smoothens the navy blue hoodie down on Jared’s bony shoulders. 

Jeff doesn’t  _want_  to leave him, fact he hadn’t left Jared alone at all for the first ten days. But Jared doesn’t want to disrupt his brother’s life any more. Besides, having spent four years alone, he is no longer used to having someone hover about him all day long. 

“You’re getting late.” 

Jeff makes a face that’s somewhere between a smile and a wince. Fiddles with the seatbelt and the controls as an excuse to linger. 

“Do you want me to quote Mandela today? I read this awesome…”

“I’m gone, I’m gone.”

Jared chuckles, waves his brother away. Then looks down at the basketball resting in his lap. 

Took quite a speech to convince Jeff he isn’t going to run away again. Where would he go? Back to Jersey where Spence’s men are still looking for him and making plans to torture him to death, slowly? 

He still isn’t ready to face his parents. He knows they must be itching to fly up here to see him, but good old Jeff’s been holding them back. He couldn’t keep Megan away though, of course. She landed the second day he’d been in Chicago. And the first thing she did when she saw him was slap him. Hard.

Guess the wheelchair evened things up between them a bit height-wise. Later she sat on his good knee and wept for an hour at least, and that hurt ten times more than the vicious slap ever possibly could.

He sighs. Looks up at the hoop and without really thinking about it, lets the ball sail out of his hands. Makes a clean shot, even if the hoop’s higher than it usually is. The ball bounces off to a corner and natural instinct screams at him to go after it, wheelchair and all. Except, he doesn’t really want to.

The first time he quit basketball was right after the accident. Told himself he would never play again. It was just too painful, the memories haunted every basketball court in the country and God knows he’s seen a lot of them in four years. Just like Jeff, inevitably he’d end up living or working or hustling in about the vicinity of one. But he never dared pick up another ball. Not for the first two years.

That changed one day when a little kid called TJ hit him with a ball as he was crossing the street by a dilapidated but artistically graffiti-ed court. The twelve-year old whistled at the tall man, sizing him up to be a player instantly, daring him to make the extra long shot. Kid sure had a way with words. 

And Jared had made the shot. 

His movements were limited because of his knee but smooth enough that two days later not just the kids but Principal Glover himself was asking him to be their part-time coach. It was a job he’d happily agreed to, a job that probably did more for his splintered soul than it did for the kids. 

Jared remembers the way Jensen had looked at him, right after he’d stopped rambling away about that job. 

_Told ya it’d be interesting._

Not a day’s gone by when he hasn’t thought of all the things Jensen said. Of his cruel taunts, his subtexted jokes, his impassioned rambling on the politics of truth. 

_I don’t wanna hurt you, ever._

Jared sighs, tugs his wheels to go after the ball after all. Thinks maybe shooting some hoops will get his mind off Jensen. Now that the shock’s worn off, he’s been thinking of everything that went down in DC more keenly. The way Jensen held his hand at the steakhouse, his grip gentle and yet firm. Like, ‘never gonna let go’ firm. The way he’d held him in the circle of his arms, so snug and possessively on the scary-ass bed. The way he’d kissed…

And all that time he knew. Jensen knew Jared was a hooker, and he had kissed him anyway…

Jared makes three clean shots in a row, wheeling after the ball with way too much energy than he needs to expend. Maybe it’ll tire him out enough tonight so he doesn’t dream anymore, not about Alan, not about San Antonio, not about his eighteen-year old self running with the ball, away from Alan’s seeking hands and Jeff’s imploring pleas, away from his deeply disappointed parents and a bleak disabled future - straight into the outstretched arms of one Jensen Ross Ackles.

He doesn’t know how long he keeps going at it. The drugs in his system slow him down, and carting oneself around on a wheelchair isn’t as easy as it looks. His arms ache, his legs twitch restlessly. At last, he halts dead center of the court with the ball on his lap, and makes up his mind. 

Jared swallows, lowers his eyes to his knee clad in black sweatpants, all the way down to the grey-white sneakers. He can do it. Just for a minute maybe, and Jeff’s not here to yell anyway. How much could it possibly hurt? He tries rising to his feet...

“Don’t even…”

Jared starts, so much that the ball tumbles off his lap and rolls away to one side. He looks up to his right. 

Dreaming. Must be dreaming.

Jensen stands at the edge of the court, and he looks absolutely… spectacular. White turtleneck over dark blue jeans, with black combat boots and a long black overcoat hangs open at his flanks. His hands are buried in his jeans pockets and his shoulders are pulled back relaxed, proud as always. There’s red splotches from the cold on his clean-shaven cheeks and black shades shield his eyes. 

“Your brother’s not gonna be too happy to see you make that jump shot.”

Yep. Most definitely dreaming. 

“How do you know my brother?”

Jensen smirks, steps onto the court. With every inch of distance he closes, Jared’s pulse quickens three-fold.

“I told you, Padalecki. I know everything about you.”

There must be something in his face that alarms Jensen, because he’s quickly backtracking. “I’m kidding, I spoke to your brother last week. On the phone.”

“W-Why?”

Ackles takes off his shades then. Bites his lip as he comes closer, until Jared has to crane his neck up to look into his face. Squints painfully because he’s looking straight up into the sun. Jensen seems to get it, moves to his left and circles around Jared until he doesn’t have to face the glare anymore. 

“I called because… well, I couldn’t find you in Jersey. And I… kinda panicked.”

Panicked?

“Spoke to Glover too, he didn’t know where you went. Said you just called up one day and quit.”

“G-Glover?”

“Yeah, funny story! He called me two weeks ago to thank me for my  _generosity_? For the donation of eighteen thousand dollars to his school, a school I never even heard of. Except in passing from you of course. But you never told me the name.” 

“It never came up.”

“I know. A lot of things that should have come up didn’t.”

Jared sighs, great. He’s come all this way to play yell at the dumbfuck rentboy again. He turns away, wheeling after his ball. “Why are you here, Jensen? What do you want?” 

He reaches the ball and bends to pick it up when another hand reaches for it at the same time. Jared smells the white musk before he sees the face perilously close to his own, the eyes sharp and crystal clear and right there - enrapturing his own skittish ones. 

“I’m here for…” Jensen stops and looks away, scratching his chin for a bit before picking up the ball. Kneels in front of Jared, sits back on his haunches so he’s the one looking up instead. 

“I still don’t know why we parted the way we did. I don’t even understand what we were fighting about. Do you?”

A brief gulping motion of his throat is the only reaction Jared can manage at the moment. “Jared, I… that night before you came into the shower after me, I…”

“I really don’t wanna talk about…”

“Please, just listen?” 

Jared sighs, slumps back against his chair and lets the guy continue. Jensen looks so… so tired, and at this distance he can see the beginnings of dark circles under his insanely green eyes.

“Before you came in, I was mad. God I was so angry with myself for playing you and I was upset with you because for all intents and purposes you were playing  _me_  too! I thought I was justified in the lies I told you because you were lying to me too, right?”

Jared doesn’t respond, it’s a rhetoric anyway.

“But then, when you… did what you did, I was caught off-guard. I felt stupid and ashamed, caught in my own web of lies after everything I said to you about Achilles and our quest for truth and justice and… God it was all just a big mess.”

Jensen winces, seemingly unable to look into Jared’s eyes anymore but forcing himself anyway.

“Look, I know you don’t like me too much right now. I’m a lying liar who lies and you’ll probably find this hard to believe, but I am usually a very honest and straight-shooting kinda guy. When I was lying to you, I wasn’t really lying to  _you_. I mean… I was just playing Morgan’s game back at him. And you were just an extension of his plot to destroy me at the time.”

Jared bites his lip, still not sure where this is heading.

“But that changed as the evening went on and well, later when… you and I…”

Jared’s eyes are wide and disbelieving. He’d never thought Ackles was even capable of stuttering. “Jensen I… I don’t blame you for anything. You were right to protect yourself.”

“But I could have kept you out of it, I didn’t have to… God, Jare’ how can you sit there and be so calm? I took advantage of you, man!”

Jared shrugs. “I put  _myself_  in that situation. It’s what whores do.”

Jensen is quiet for so long that Jared starts to fidget. His fingers itch to close around the ball, something, anything to hide their shaking. 

“Jared, I know it started out as… just a job for you.”

Jared winces, looks away. 

“But, I guess the reason I’m here is, that, I was hoping…”

He blinks. Looks back at Jensen who seems to be fumbling again. Into his wide, seeking eyes.

“I was hoping that, maybe it turned into… something else? Like it did for me? And that maybe, there was probably another reason why you chose to tell me about the… the bugs?”

“…”

“There is, isn’t there?”

He gulps. Hard. “No.”

“I could see it in your eyes that night. And I can see it now.”

Jared spins away, to hell with the fucking ball. “Go away, Jensen. Before the paparazzi catches you  _socializing_  with someone you’d rather not be seen with.”

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. 

His wheels are thwarted with a jerk as Jensen suddenly jumps in his path and his foot clamps down on the left pedal. His hands grab the tips of both armrests, trapping Jared in between. 

“Oh no. We’re talking it through this time, Padalecki. You’re not pushing me away again.”

“I pushed you away?? You were the one who threatened to call the cops, remember?”

The tears start to run down, fucking traitors. He tries to wrench away but Jensen isn’t letting go. Not this time. 

“I’m so sorry Jare’… shhh… please… please forgive me. I’m  _so_  sorry, shhh…”

“Stop shushing me!”

“Sorry! I… it’s a bad habit, I’m sorry.”

“And stop saying sorry!”

“But I really am- right. Sorry… shit. I mean…”

And now a stupid chuckle escapes, it’s like his whole fucking body turns on him whenever this man’s around. 

Jensen softly smiles, almost in relief, his head dipping and rising, mimicking all of Jared’s movements as he looks away and back again. It’s then he realizes Jensen’s hands are on his hands again, covering the whitening knuckles fiercely gripping the metal bars. The hands are warm and plush just as he remembers them. 

“Jared…” Jensen’s voice is a hoarse, semi-wet whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Oh God.  _I can’t stop thinking about you._

“After Danneel left, I was a wreck. She left this gigantic hole in my heart that for the past year I’ve been trying to fill with work, work and more work. It’s why I went after Morgan with such vengeance that I kind of checked out of my own principles for a while. And honestly I’m not so sorry about that, you know why?”

“Why?”

“’Cause it led me to you.”

Jensen puts a hand on his bandaged knee and strokes it lightly. Jared doesn’t think Jensen’s even aware that he’s doing it. Catches a sudden movement behind a tree in his direct line of sight and it distracts him for a second, only to be drawn back in by Jensen’s words that continue to drill through the walls around his weary heart. 

“I used to work myself so hard I’d be dead by the time I hit the sack. Sleep the whole night through with no dreams.”

Yeah, no nightmares either. He can relate.

“But now? Now I can hardly concentrate on anything because… damn it because of you. Because of your beautiful, goofy little smile, your kind sad eyes so wise beyond your years. The way you hesitate to speak your mind but I don’t see why ‘cause you’re so smart and logical all the damn time!”

“Jensen…”

“All my dreams are beautiful and whole again because you’re in them. Every morning for the past two weeks, I’ve woken up with a smile on my face. Only to have it turn to ashes because you’re not with me.”

“Jensen…”

“And I would  _completely_  understand if you’re still too mad at me, hell you have a right to be. But Jared please, please just give me another chance to make it up to you, please… I’d do anything. Anything at all?”

Jared licks his lips. “You could start by letting me speak.”

Jensen’s mouth opens in a wide ‘o’ before he sees Jared smiling. Lowers his head and chuckles quietly, and wow, is Jensen blushing?

“I’m sorry. Go on?”

Another sorry - Jared sighs, no point correcting him again. Might as well just tell him what he needs to know. Ignores the expectant look on Jensen’s face and braces himself for the rejection soon to follow.

“There’s a guy with a camera behind that tree, three o’clock.”

He can see that was the last thing Jensen was expecting to hear. A frown appears and the hand still closed over his stiffens. But Jensen doesn’t look away from his eyes. And then just as suddenly he smirks. 

“I guess he’s the lucky one. Someone’s bound to land the first exclusive. Not that it’d be worth anything after I’m done making my official announcement.”

“Wh-What?”

Jensen lowers himself to his knees so he’s eye to eye with Jared. And he’s leaning closer, even closer. 

“Is he watching?”

“Jensen, what are you…”

“Is he?”

Jared sneaks a look sideways, nods subtly. And before he can ask again, Jensen tilts his head and presses his lips to his. Everything else whites into nothingness. His eyelids drop of their own volition and he’s lost again. Floating, drifting away without an anchor, out of control…

Someone’s clicking away furiously.

“Mpfhh… but those pictures will destroy you!” 

“Shh… no they won’t.”

Jensen’s hands come up to caress his face, pushes his wild hair out of his manic eyes. “I’m not scared of the publicity, Jared. I’ve been out for years now. My family and friends have known since high school. There’s just not been anyone special, girl or guy, since Danneel. And I was with Danneel for such a long time. Just because I wasn’t a fucking CEO back then, nobody cared.”

His eyes are wide with amazement. “So you, you’re not worried that…”

“The only thing I’m worried about is if you turn me down and I have nothing to announce at all.”

Jensen looks away briefly then, glares straight at the guy with the fat-ass SLR and smirks. Then he subtly turns further behind him toward another guy, a big Mike Tyson clone standing next to a Mercedes E-class, Jensen’s car no doubt. He must be Jensen’s bodyguard or driver or something, and is now vehemently stalking over to the journalist behind the tree. 

“Jensen…”

Jensen turns back to face him. His eyes seem… hopeful, still seeking…

“I think you should still be worried, Ackles.”

“Why?”

“If they find out what I am…”

He can hear footsteps running away in the background. 

“You’re beautiful, that’s what you are. And everyone will see that, and be so freakin’ jealous of…”

“Don’t patronize me, Ackles.”

Jensen backs up a little then, biting his lower lip. Jared can’t look at him anymore. He was right all along, this  _is_  a dream. And anytime now he’s going to wake up…

“The press will crucify you. I almost ruined you once, I can’t… won’t do it again.”

“Dude. Look at me.”

When he finally does, he sees some of the old Ackles back. The Ackles he met in Washington. Self-assured. Arrogant. Jensen spreads his hands out on his sides. “The press can’t hurt me, Jared. I  _am_  the press.”

He doesn’t have a response to that. 

“If they find out about your past, I’ll make sure they also see the reasons why you fell into that world in the first place, and how you left it all behind to start a new life…”

And this time, oh yeah, Jensen is definitely blushing. “Maybe… hopefully… with me?”

It’s a question. A mind-numbing, breath-stealing, dream-like question that sends blood gushing up his face and forces Jared to look away. The intensity of Jensen’s gaze is piercing, warming him up inside and out. 

“Uh, thanks, by the way, for letting my brother know where I was.”

Avoidance of the question doesn’t go as smoothly as planned. Jared watches Jensen’s smile falter, but he composes himself quickly enough. “You would have found your way back eventually. I just couldn’t wait that long.”

“You waited two weeks.”

That makes the corners of Jensen’s mouth turn up sheepishly again. “Was practicing my apology speech.”

Jared chuckles then, biting his lip because his tongue has a sordid habit of peeking out a little when he laughs. Jensen seems to love it though. Leans in to capture his lips again and this time, Jared participates. 

And if this is a dream then, what the heck, he’s happy to sleep forever. 

The cellphone beeps, and he starts. Flushes brightly because it’s middle of the day and he’s kissing his… his… he’s kissing Jensen in plain sight of everyone passing by. Jensen doesn’t seem to hear it, hell he just wants to keep going. He ducks and Jensen whines. Picks up his cellphone to see the text message from, surprise, Jeff.

_Yo, Redster! Will be back for lunch. You better be home by twelve, or else ;)_

“Redster?”

Jared looks up from his phone to see Jensen craning his neck and reading his message upside down. Figures the guy would be a freaking snoop. Jared shakes his head. 

“It’s just a nickname. Started with Red, as in short for Jared. Which quickly turned into RedNose, RedFace, RedButt…”

That sparkling laughter echoes again. Jared could never get tired of that sound. He joins in. “Yeah. And finally it’s just Redster.”

Jensen tucks an unruly lock of hair behind Jared’s ear, before standing up and going behind him to take the handlebars of the wheelchair. 

“Okay, let’s go home,  _Redster_. Meet this legendary brother of yours.”

Jeff Padalecki versus Jensen Ackles. This should be fun. 

“You better behave yourself around him, man. Or he’ll kick your ass all the way back to New York.”

The voice behind him is clearly bemused. “Oh yeah? Him and his army or residents?”

“My big brother is a one-man army himself, dude. For starters, he’s six seven.”

“Seriously? Freaking family of giants!”

He laughs. “Well, Megan and Mom aren’t six feet plus. But we’re all tall, yeah.”

And then suddenly Jared remembers. Turns abruptly and cranes behind him. “Wait. The ball…”

“Oh, right.”

Jared’s smile freezes as he turns around. Jensen runs for the ball, hits it so it bounces up into the air before he catches it, only to keep dribbling it all the way back to Jared. A momentary flashback of Alan ethereally superimposes itself on the vision of Jensen, and he can barely breathe. 

_It’s okay, Jare’. You can let go now._

**

That night, Jensen forgoes his booking at the Conrad to stay with Jared in the little guest room in Jeff’s house. Jared’s big brother takes his time getting used to the idea of them spending the night together, but eventually (after taking one look at Jared’s silent mask of a face) he practically insists that Jensen stay. 

Jared wears his brother’s giant-sized blue basketball shorts to bed, along with a white ragged old Scooby Doo t-shirt he loves so much. Jensen strips down to his red-and-white checkered boxers, then curls up around Jared on the queen-sized bed from behind, under the pale blue duvet. 

It still feels like a dream, fragile like glass and if he so much as blinks, it might just shatter and be gone forever…

“Turn around,” the gentle voice whispers. 

Jared doesn’t protest, clumsily bouncing up and down in the bed as he turns without straining his bandaged knee too much. Jensen closes his arms around him once more, pulls the injured leg up and holds it between his own, keeping it safe. It brings his groin flush against Jensen’s and a tremble runs down his spine. But Jensen isn’t interested in  _that_  tonight. It surprises Jared, but then he’s still thinking like a… like someone who’s not been wanted for anything but sex for a long, long time. 

“Was Alan your…?”

Jensen speaks in hushed whispers, soft and delicate. As if he too is afraid of breaking the illusion.

“Best friend. That’s all.”

He doesn’t elaborate, it’s still too painful to talk about. 

“Jeff says you used to prattle away at sixty miles a minute.”

Jared sighs almost painfully. “That was a long time ago. I… thought I had it made. Was at the top of my game, had wonderful friends and family who accepted me for who and what I was, a great future all planned out. Got cocky.”

“Somehow, I find that very hard to believe.”

Jared smiles sadly before he buries his face in Jensen’s neck, breathing in the sweet scent of ivory and musk. Feels soft kisses pressed into his temple, fingers running down his permanently awry hair.

“Jare’?”

“Hmm.”

Jared can feel Jensen’s heart racing against his own. “Why did you go back to Jersey? Why didn’t you, you know, just take the money and run?”

That was the plan, yeah. He’d resigned himself to a dismal existence under the control of a sadistic pimp with nothing but his class of basketball kids to make him get out of bed every day. Until one day Marsters shows up clutching an Elite Escorts catalog under an arm, and offering Jared the exit option of a lifetime. One he’d jumped at of course, back when he didn’t think there was any room left on his conscience to bear the weight of yet another guilt.

He’d been wrong.

“It didn’t feel right.” He whispers noncommittally, as Jensen moves to rest his chin on top of Jared’s head. “Besides, I didn’t think Spence would find out so soon and…”

He is interrupted bluntly, urgently. 

“Jared, I know you said you want us to try and make this work. But after everything that’s happened in Washington, do you think you could ever really forgive me?”

_What?_  Jared frowns and looks up. “Jensen, I don’t… there is… you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Don’t I? I used you, treated you like…”

“Like the fag-whore I was, yeah! I  _remember_.” 

Jared’s lost it by now, his cheeks burning up with the humiliating memories of that night two weeks ago. Leans away and would have tried to sit up but the shattered look on Jensen’s face pulls him up short, and now he’s just desperate to never have this conversation again. 

“Look, we went over this. I’m the one who tried to trick you, remember? Please let’s not worry about the past anymore, okay?”

Jensen shakes his head. “I’ve got so many flaws, Jared. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to match up to your high expectations.”

Jared isn’t sure what they’re talking about anymore. “What high expectations? Ackles what are you on about?”

Jensen exhales loudly. “I have a temper, Jared, you’ve seen it. I get vicious when I’m cornered. I snore, sometimes. Not all the time.”

Jared rolls his eyes but Jensen just keeps going. “I’m stubborn and impulsive. I’m a sore loser. I… I, I’m no good with names and I got no patience for jaywalkers and not the least bit for slow driving grannies in fast lanes. And I honk.”

Jared laughs, “Wow. You really are a New Yorker. I’m freaked.”

“And I’m never the designated driver.”

Oh.  _Now_  he knows what they’re talking about. 

Jensen grimaces, hard, like he doesn’t really want to do this himself. “Never. Can’t resist a single malt, you know?”

“Jensen…” Jared breathes heavily, his voice shaking with emotion he’s tried so hard to escape for years.

“You see, Jare’… I’m gonna be needing a lot of forgiveness, if this has to work. I can’t carry the weight of guilt around like you do, especially guilt that’s not even mine.” 

Presumptuous sonofabitch. Does he really expect it to be that easy? Does Ackles really think he can just  _talk_  all the pain away?

Jared looks up angrily into those storm-filled eyes, teeth worrying at the shapely lips. He slams his own lips against them feverishly because damn it, he can’t bear to see the desperation in Jensen’s face. 

“I know. I know baby, shh…” 

He doesn’t understand why Jensen is muttering those words when Jared is the one supposed to be consoling him. Takes him awhile to realize the hot drops of water rolling down his cheeks and neck aren’t coming from Jensen either. 

“It’s going to be okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“I d-don’t know how. Jensen, the things I’ve done these past four years…”

Jensen pulls him closer if that’s even possible, slipping a hand up his t-shirt and gently rubbing his heaving back. He says some things about ‘moving on’ and ‘not his fault’ and maybe Jared hears them, maybe he doesn’t. Doesn’t matter. He’s probably not even ready to believe them yet. All that matters, is that Jensen’s the one saying them.

The tears dry up eventually, the snivels take their own time. Silence has never felt so reassuring before. 

Jensen rests his forehead against Jared’s. His breath carries a hint of cinnamon as it mingles with his own probably drug-flavored one but the other man doesn’t seem to care. Somewhere outside their window, a noisy vehicle drives by, hip-hop blaring at full volume mixed with the carefree sound of kids laughing. Jared quietly prays the driver hasn’t been drinking tonight.

“Go to sleep, Jare’.”

He sighs and nods, tries to give the other man space because by now he’s practically lying on top of him but Jensen won’t let go.

“Shhh, just like this,” Jensen whispers softly. “So the first thing you’ll see when you wake up in the morning is me. And you’ll know you’re not dreaming because I’m gonna be here. Right here with you, Jared. Sleep now, sleep…”

He sleeps.

 

***************  
***************

 

“This is Jeff Padalecki.”

“Hey, Dr. Padalecki, I’m trying to reach your brother.”

“Who is this?”

“J-Jensen. Jensen Ackles. Jared’s your baby brother right? I’ve tried all his contacts but no one knows where he went and…”

“Please calm down, Mr. … Ackles? Isn’t that Ackles from the Achilles News channel?”

“That’s me.”

“What do you want from my brother?”

“I…”

“Hello?”

“I just wanna make sure he’s alright? I called up your house in San Antonio but no one’s home and I thought he was supposed to be home but he’s not, and, I’m afraid he might be in danger or something…”

“Why do you say he might be in danger?”

“I, I don’t know how much you know about the kind of company Jared’s fallen into, recently. But, um… look, I’m gonna be as straight with you as I can. Have you heard of a guy called Sebastian Spence?”

“No.”

“He’s a mafia pimp. Runs the prostitution ring in all of New Jersey, headquartered in Jersey City. Your brother, Jared’s been working for him for two years now.”

“You still haven’t told me what’s going on?”

“There’s going to be a raid. The cops and a team of my journalists are executing a sting operation to bring Spence to justice and it’s all going down tonight. I wanted to make sure Jared is aware, and nowhere near Jersey City when this happens. But I can’t fucking find him anywhere! Dr. Padalecki please, if you have any idea where he is…”

“He’s with me. Here in Chicago. It’s been almost a week now.”

“So… he’s okay then?”

“Yeah. Knee’s in bad shape. Jared didn’t tell me much but I think this Spence guy and his men did quite a number on it before I found him. But he’s going to be alright.”

“Oh, thank you Jesus. I mean, uh, I’m glad he’s okay.”

“Allison Mack works for you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ackles.”

“Please, call me Jensen. And it’s no big deal, really.”

“My brother’s had a rough four years. And for the last two we didn’t even know where he was. It’s a very, very big deal to us, Mr. Ackles. Thank you.”

“Is he around? Could I, maybe talk to him?”

“He’s at home. You just caught me at the hospital.”

“Oh.”

“He’s changed a lot since I saw him last, you know. Three years ago, he wouldn’t have accepted my help, even if he needed it badly.”

“Like you said, he’s been through hell.”

“Yeah. And for the first time in four years, he’s found a reason to fight back."

"..."

  
"That's  _Jensen_ , right?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes he has nightmares, and he wakes up screaming your name.”

“…”

“I can give you my street address, if you want.”

“Thanks, Dr. Padalecki.”

“Call me Jeff, Jensen.”

 

***************  
***************

 

(tbc)


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six**

***************

  
“Hey, he’s here.”

Jared stiffens. Jeff steps into the bedroom, as excited and nervous as a freshman on his first day of college and doing very little to hide it. Jared, who’d been gazing aimlessly out of his bedside window, barely gets time to wheel around towards Jeff when two other guys walk into the room. 

Jensen smiles at Jared reassuringly, one arm unfurled towards the magnificent specimen of a man, standing buck straight beside him. 

“Jare’ I want you to meet my good friend, Dr. Sterling Brown.”

Man he hates feeling like the shorter guy.

Dr. Brown smiles down at him, steps closer with one hand outstretched and Jared has no choice but to take it. Questions and fears (and hopes) immediately bubble up and choke his throat, so he just nods instead.

“Good to meet you, Jared. May I call you Jared?”

Jared quickly nods again. There is genuine warmth in the doctor’s eyes and the crisp smile, which Jared struggles to reciprocate. It’s easy to see why Jensen is still quite intimidated by the man. His dark blue jacket over a pristine white shirt does nothing to hide the massive bulk of muscle underneath. He was star quarterback in high school who went on to play the pros in college but gave it all up to pursue medicine. Who does that? 

This is the man Jensen’s ex-wife left him for. In spite of that, there was an innate trust in Jensen’s voice when he spoke of Brown before. It’s probably the same trust that brought the very successful, very busy orthopedic specialist all the way from New York to Chicago after a mere two days’ notice. Who does  _that_?

Jared attempts small talk. “So you a bone doctor?”

Brown smiles again. “It’s what I specialize in, yeah. Now, would you mind if I took a look at your knee?”

Jared gulps but nods again. The doctor approaches him purposely, kneels before him and sits back on his haunches before he starts to neatly roll the sweatpants up Jared’s right leg. Jared grips his armrests to hold himself still. 

“Okay. Let’s see what we have here… looks like a really old injury, seems to have been neglected for far too long.” Brown then raises an eyebrow in question, “Repeated, severe blunt trauma to the same joint?”

Jeff, who’s apparently already struck a rapport with a senior colleague, jumps in with a quick explanation and Jared’s medical history. Flashes of Rocco bringing his fat elbow down on his knee invade Jared’s mind and he winces, forcing himself to tune it all out. Concentrates instead on Jensen until all he sees is the older man’s head unconsciously tilted to the left, and all he hears are Jensen’s silently mouthed words that seem to be –  _‘Right here. I’m right here.’_

“We should get more tests done before I can make a final prognosis. But there is a possibility this may require two separate procedures, at least. A patellofemoral arthroplasty to replace the kneecap, and of course a patella tendon graft replacement for the ACL. That’s…”

Jeff pitches in. “The anterior crucia ligament, I remember. It’s what his doctors told us last time…”

Last time.

Jared feels the little glimmer of hope he’d felt not so long ago fade away to darkness once more. It  _is_  what they said last time. He couldn’t afford the surgery then, and he sure as hell can’t afford it now.

Brown pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, lost in thought. “But it’s been a while so, it’s possible we might have to go with a complete joint replacement. Dr. Padalecki, you mentioned you had an X-ray done last week?”

“Yeah.” Jeff reaches out for a hospital green-colored envelope lying on a table just behind him. “Here…”

“Hold on, Jeff.”

The older Padalecki looks up at Jared, frowning. Jared tries to convey his panic-stricken thoughts to his brother with his eyes. He also tries to hide behind his bangs from Jensen that Jeff, tool that he can be sometimes, reaches out and casually brushes away from his face. 

“What is it, Redster?”

Jared sighs. The silence lasts for barely a couple seconds, but is awkward enough to feel as long as a decade before Jeff gets it. 

“Oh! It’s okay, Jared. I got coverage for the whole family at Chicago Medical.”

Jared’s eyes go wide. “Even me?”

From the corner of an eye, he catches Jensen and Dr. Brown exchange a quick look, while Jeff makes his classic what-a-colossal-moron face. “Duh!”

Okay. So maybe it should have been obvious to him, maybe. Jared lowers his eyes embarrassed and Jeff puts a hand over one of his. “We just need to wait a couple months for a slot to open up and…”

“I wouldn’t advise that, Dr. Padalecki.” 

Everyone turns to look at Dr. Brown, now rising to stand with his hands joined behind his back. His voice is absolutely neutral as he delivers the bad news. “Surgery is required right away if you don’t want your brother to lose the use of this knee forever. Any later and Jared may need a wheelchair or crutches for the rest of his life.”

Jeff stands up as well, his worry clearly evident in his face. “But, there’s no appointment available for the next two months at least. And I’ll keep pushing for any last minute availability but there is no guarantee…”

“I’d be happy to do the surgeries if you bring Jared to Beth Israel.”

Jeff blinks a couple of times. “In Manhattan?”

Where his health coverage won’t be applicable?

Dr. Brown nods, completely unperturbed. “We can start next week.”

And once again, the good doctor manages to stun everyone into a silence that lasts a good long while.

That’s when Jensen clears his throat. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

And that, sweet as it may sound, is the last thing Jared wants to hear. 

“No.”

“But…”

“The answer’s no, Jensen.”

Jared can’t bring himself to be impolite. It’s such a generous offer after all. But he still wheels himself out of reach and turns back to face the window. 

Jensen exhales loud enough for everyone to hear. “Guys. Could you please give us a minute?”

Jared hears Jeff and Dr. Brown slowly shuffle out leaving only Jensen standing beside him. Jared crosses his arms against his chest tightly. 

“I thought we’d sorted it all out.”

Jared is glad he isn’t facing Jensen yet. “I don’t remember consenting to upgrade myself from a street whore to a kept one, do you?”

He hears Jensen sigh. “What I recall is you agreeing to trust me, that’s what I remember.” 

There is a slight displeasure in Jensen’s voice that makes Jared flinch. And maybe Jensen sees it, because he wastes no time in pulling up a chair next to Jared and sits so they’re at eye-level with each other.

“Think of it as a loan if you want. You can pay me back later,” Jensen whispers, taking Jared’s right hand in both of his. Fingers softly caress the pale skin on his knuckles and the joints between two fingers, and Jared shivers. He lowers his eyes, feeling the usual red-hot burn in his cheeks when confronted with both the harsh realities of his life and Jensen’s unyielding acceptance of them, all at once.

“You know I might never be able to.” 

Jensen puts his other hand under his chin, making Jared look up into his face. “Doesn’t matter Jared, we can afford it. Nothing’s as important as getting you back on your feet again. So you can walk again, play again, be a coach again. I  _know_  you want to.”

Of course he does, but not like this. Here he’d thought he was finally getting to be with a man he actually liked, without it being a fucking  _financial_  transaction.

He looks away grimacing. “I’m just not comfortable with…”

“You were okay when it was Jeff handling it.”

Jared swallows hard. “He’s my big brother.”

Jensen scowls, a blatant challenge coloring his booming voice. “So??”

What the hell does he mean ‘So?’

“So… he… he wants to take care of me. He’s  _family_.” 

Yeah. Because that seems important right now, not that it wasn’t important four years ago when he left his said family and ran away. Not that they weren’t important three weeks ago when his parents called and begged Jared to let them come see him and he refused. 

Jared wrenches the wheelchair out of Jensen’s grip and spins as far away from him as the four walls of the bedroom would allow. His heart feels heavy and conflicted, and he’s frowning so hard his brows are starting to hurt. In the silence that follows, he can clearly hear Jensen breathing behind him – steady and deep, and painfully measured. 

“I could be your family.”

Who knows how long it took for the quietly whispered words to sink in. Who knows how long it took for Jared to convince himself he didn’t just dream them up.

Jared turns to look at Jensen, who stands like he usually does with his hands in his pockets, his body outlined in sun’s gold streaming in from the window behind him. To say he looks like an angel would be such a hackneyed cliché. 

Well, too bad, ‘cause right then Jared can think of nothing else.

**

“You’re fussing again.” 

Jared points out unhelpfully, watching his big brother as Jeff goes about re-folding and re-packing Jared’s four t-shirts and two jeans in his brown duffel bag for a third time. Eventually though Jeff gives it up, runs a hand through his chestnut hair and looks up to meet Jared’s eyes. 

Jared is sitting up in bed, dressed in black sweatpants and a white t-shirt with one of Jeff’s old letter jackets and Jeff’s Bulls cap, all ready to go. Jeff, of course, is nowhere near ready to let him go which Jared pretends to find exasperating. Truth be told, he’d rather have his brother come with. But Jeff can’t get any time off until four days later on the coming Sunday.

“It’s gonna be okay, big bro.”  _Please don’t be late._  

Jeff smiles tightly. “I know, of course. Yeah. Dr. Brown is one of the best surgeons in the country and just happens to be Ackles’ very close and trusted friend. How fortunate is that by the way, huh?”

Must be a genetic Padalecki thing: unnecessary rambling when nervous. Jeff continues to fidget unhappily. “You know if I could…”

“I know.” Jared nods, because he does. 

Jensen walks in right then, and Jeff quickly turns away to compose himself. Jared plays it cool, pretends his heart didn’t just skip a beat at the sight of a man he is crazy about, even though he doesn’t completely trust him yet. And despite everything, apparently neither does Jeff. He’s made a few calls to some of his friends and a couple of distant cousins living in Manhattan to check up on Jared once he gets there. 

“All set?” Jensen asks, annoyingly cheerful, and Jeff pastes a big plastic grin on his face in response. 

“Yeah, almost. But Ackles, like we discussed…”

“I know. No surgery until you get there, I promise.”

Jared shakes his head. It’s the fourth time Jensen’s had to reassure Jeff but Jensen doesn’t seem too hassled by it. Obviously Jeff isn’t exactly digging this sudden loss of control when it comes to Jared. And he’s probably feeling more than a little resentment towards Ackles too. 

Jared bites his lip to keep from grinning. And when that fails, he buries his face in his book while the two older men stare each other down passive-aggressively over his head.

They’re acting like freakin’ in-laws, is what he thinks. 

**

His nerves return with a vengeance when the airplane starts to descend a few miles outside of Kennedy airport. Doesn’t help that they’re flying first class – yet another reminder of the economic disparity between him and Jensen. Not that Jensen’s pure white Armani suit, expensive Gucci shoes and Police shades haven’t done the job already.

“Relax, Jare’.”

Jensen says it often, among other things, completely misreading the reasons for Jared’s jerkiness. He kept a hold on Jared’s hand throughout the flight one way or another - carded his fingers through Jared’s and squeezed when they took off, caressed the back of his hand drawing invisible circles around his knuckles after they leveled, and now that they’re about to land, he takes Jared’s hand in both of his and brings it up to his mouth, kissing each one of the curled up fingers reverently. Jared doesn’t react, continues to stare out the window seemingly enraptured by the landscape below. Even though he’s lived in Jersey for two years, he never got the chance to visit the more popular cousin state of New York until now.

The sight of a black stretch limo waiting for them makes it even worse. 

“Yep, that’s our ride. Welcome to New York!”

Jensen looks excited to be back in his adopted home state. His face split in a giant childlike grin forces Jared to participate and almost makes him forget his own misgivings. Almost. 

As his wheelchair is rolled out of the terminal, Jared notices two men standing next to the car, one in a black suit and an earpiece who clearly looks like a driver slash bodyguard. And the other is a tall, dark and extraordinarily handsome man dressed in yet another expensive black suit, no tie. His eyes are hidden behind black sunglasses, and his windblown hair is a sexy jet-black and the fact that Jensen even  _knows_  this man is enough to make Jared mildly envious. 

“Hey Tommy…” Jensen calls out as they approach the curb. 

Tommy? Isn’t that like a dog’s name?

“Hey Jenny…”

Jenny?!?!? 

Jared schools his face until it’s devoid of all expressions (of revulsion) and looks up into the stranger’s face. The man gives Jensen a lopsided grin, his fists perched on his hips and his feet set apart as he continues to look at nothing and no one but Jensen. 

_Hello? Almost-boyfriend right (down) here!_

“Tommy, meet Jared Padalecki. Jared, this is Tom Welling. We’ve been best buds since…”

“Wharton, you told me.”

Never let it be said that Jared Padalecki forgot his manners. He holds out a hand, albeit hesitantly, and gets the feeling that it’s taken with equal reluctance. 

Jensen hands the driver the duffel bag he was carrying for Jared and they all get into the car. Jared keeps his eyes trained out the window and lets the two men catch up. They talk business for a long while so he’s clearly not expected to contribute any way. Every now and then though, he senses a pair of eyes on him that don’t belong to Jensen. But every time he turns to look back, he sees nothing but opaque black glasses and a poker face that gives nothing away. The vibes however are strong enough for him to feel and interpret. 

Welling does not like him one bit. Awesome.  _Feeling’s mutual, pal._

In a way, this distrust is easier to deal with. It distracts Jared long enough to forget about his own distrust of Jensen, which is, perhaps, equally undeserved? Maybe, Jared’s known himself to be wrong before.

The drive is a long one mostly because traffic in the city is atrocious, he’s almost sure it’s even worse than Newark. Jared sighs petulantly a couple of times, maybe pouts a little turning towards Jensen to make damn sure he sees it. Jensen is easily distracted and slides closer to Jared to drape an arm around his bony shoulders.

“Almost there, baby,” Jensen whispers in Jared’s ear silkily before licking his lobe and Jared nearly jumps. He glances over at Tom and this time the other man looks away a little too quickly, flustered to be caught watching the ‘happy’ couple. 

Jared smirks, turns towards Jensen and kisses him fully on the lips. 

They reach their destination at last, and Jared can’t believe his eyes. They’re in what Jensen called the Upper East Side area. They drive through a posh residential neighborhood past a string of grand multi-million dollar houses, only to come to a halt in front of the most majestic of them all. It’s not the largest, and definitely not the flashiest. It’s just… the most beautiful townhouse ever.

And it all comes rushing back to him with a demeaning jolt. 

The driver holds the door open for him but Jared doesn’t make a move. Of course he’s not supposed to, not until someone comes around with the wheelchair first. But that’s not why he’s frozen on his spot, unable to so much as twitch. 

This was a mistake. He never should have agreed to come here at all. 

Someone squeezes his thigh gently and Jared looks down to find Jensen crouched before him beside the car door. “You know, I kinda have this fantasy.”

The man’s clearly perfected the art of looking both wicked and charming at the same time. Jared narrows his eyes. “Which is?”

“Um… not much, just me carrying you over the threshold of this house?”

Jared bites back a scoff as Jensen rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Yeah, Jared noticed the  _not_  wheelchair-friendly stairs leading up to the townhouse alright.

“Only, in that fantasy I’m also a six feet ten heavyweight pro champion so…”

That just makes him laugh outright, which is probably what Jensen intended to begin with. 

“But you know what? I have Tom here who’s my second-in-command to do all my bidding for me, so maybe I’ll ask him to carry you, what do you say, Tommy?”

And now he’s trying to break his friend Welling out of his sullen mood as well, not that it works. Welling just scowls and looks away, his eyes still shrouded in uncomfortable secrecy. Jared swats at Jensen’s chest to pull his attention back towards himself, and Jensen is happy enough to give it. 

“Forget it. All I need is a shoulder to help me make it up the stairs. Do you think you can do that? Or do you need your second-in-command for that too?”

Jensen frowns, “But Jare’…”

“I’ll be fine! The wheelchair’s overkill, really.” 

Somehow he convinces Jensen to forgo the damn thing and help Jared stand up and sling his arm around Jensen’s shoulders. Together they slowly climb the stairs with him limping on one leg and leaning on Jensen for support. 

Welling blatantly ignores them and walks ahead. He doesn’t volunteer to help, not once. 

**

The house is just as beautiful on the inside but while the exterior is more neo-Italian Renaissance, the interiors are modern and stylish and less elaborate – almost minimal, just like Jensen told him in DC. 

Some time is spent making introductions to Jensen’s butler, Kim Manners. Jensen is clearly very fond of the guy and also extremely dependent on him. Jared didn’t think the job description even existed anymore.

They put Jared up in the guestroom on the first floor itself to avoid the stairs. It’s a beautiful, spacious bedroom with an authentic nineteenth century fireplace and a bed big enough that Jared’s long legs don’t hang off the edge. And it doesn’t creak either.

At night after dinner, Jared curls up on one side of the bed facing away from where he supposes Jensen would sleep. Despite the exhaustion settled deep into every bone of his body, his mind refuses to capitulate. It continues to revel in the subtle sights, sounds and scents of this house, feeling Jensen’s personal touch in everything around him - Jensen’s liberal spirit, his borderline arrogance, his need for speed and convenience over everything else and despite it all his flair for perfection – it’s all in here. 

Jared wonders if the former Mrs. Ackles had any say in decorating the place at all.

Earlier, Jensen had helped Jared shower and change into his pajamas. But apart from a few stolen kisses and a couple instances of intimate touching (that he didn’t mind so much), Jensen hadn’t really tried anything yet. Maybe he’s saving it for the night? In bed under his midnight blue silk sheets, like civilized rich folks?

He’s almost asleep when a soft rustling of clothes alerts him to the presence of another man in the room. Minutes later, Jensen slides into bed and under the covers, draping his long body alongside Jared’s spooning him from behind. Jared tenses up, not sure what to expect.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

Jensen kisses his nape lightly and brings a hand around to rest on Jared’s belly. Jared struggles to breathe normally.

“Oh Jare’,” Jensen mumbles into the back of Jared’s neck, rubbing his lips against tingling skin. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here in my home, in my arms.”

_In your bed._  

Jared holds himself rigid, unresisting but clearly not very enthused either.

“Jared? What’s wrong?”

Jared bites his lip, but the bitterness inside can’t be suppressed any longer. “I suppose this is the part where I must earn my keep, right?” 

“What?”

The arms around him disappear. After much internal debating, Jared turns over to find Jensen sitting up in bed. His knees are drawn to his chest and he is rubbing his eyes with one hand tiredly. Sadly.

“Why do you keep saying that, Jared?” 

He looks lost. Dismayed. Jared’s eyes catch the dull gleam of something metallic in Jensen’s other hand resting on his knees – glasses? Jensen must wear contacts. He must have taken them off for the night and switched to these… thick horn-rimmed glasses. 

“Do you really think I’d put up such an big elaborate charade just to get you in bed?”

Yikes. When he puts it like that… 

“No. I’m sorry,” Jared whispers, and he means it. 

He sits up rebelling against his fears, and slowly slides sideways so his left shoulder is in line and grazing with Jensen’s right one. The older man’s changed into a white wifebeater and grey flannel pants. And here Jared had pictured him in designer silk PJs - nothing like the kid in a college dorm that Ackles looks like right now.

“It’s just… there is so much I don’t know about you, so much you don’t know about me and yet here we are…”

Jared feels his lungs starting to clam up, his lack of breath covering up for his deficiency of words. Beside him Jensen sighs and puts his glasses on then turns to look at Jared. Correction –  _geeky_  kid in a college dorm is what Ackles looks like right now. 

“We have all our lives to get to know each other, Jared. But I get it, I do.”

He cups Jared’s cheek in one palm, the green of his irises just as intoxicating from behind the thick glasses. “I asked you to trust me, but so far I’ve done nothing to earn any of your trust.”

“I didn’t mean that…”

“Shh…” Jensen slides his thumb down until it rests on Jared’s lips, gently silencing him. Jared shivers from the sensuousness and just the tiniest hint of kink behind the little gesture.

“Let’s take it one day at a time, alright? If ever you think this isn’t working out, just say the word. I’d probably be a little heartbroken and shit but…”

Jared winces at the wistful look on his benefactor’s face. The thumb still won’t let him speak as it calmly caresses his lips, and Jensen just shrugs and carries on anyway.

“I don’t want to build this relationship on any false sense of obligations, Jared. It’s got to be your call, or nothing at all.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know how much to believe even. Doesn’t know if he should be relieved or disappointed when Jensen pushes the covers aside and gets out of bed taking a couple of pillows with him. All Jared feels is a nagging sense of loss, like grains of sand slipping through his fingers the tighter he tries to hold on to it. Like helplessly watching a two-ton truck ram into him because it’s just too late to do anything to avoid it.

“Jensen, please…”

_Please don’t go. Please give me time. Please take the call. I don’t want to be the one having to take the stupid call. Please don’t go…_

Jensen turns to him once, and the corners of his eyes and mouth crinkle ever so softly. “Right here, Jared. Still right here.”

That night, Jensen sleeps on the couch twelve feet away. Jared pulls his battered knee up and watches Jensen’s chest rise and fall in a steady hypnotic rhythm for as long as he can keep his eyes open. Eventually he drifts off, promising himself that he wasn’t going to be such a wimpy little girl tomorrow night. 

It’s a promise he fails to keep for another week.

**

Morning comes soon enough, and once again Jared blushes furiously and keeps his eyes averted while Jensen helps him into the bathroom. The reason Jared ran away from home was because he couldn’t stand to be a liability to his folks. That reason still holds, only it applies to Jensen now. And even though the man refuses to take no for an answer, it doesn’t make it any easier for Jared to accept and live with. Least not yet. 

At the breakfast table, Welling is waiting for them when Jensen wheels him in. What fun. There is a new face seated next to him - a woman he’s never met before, but there is such warmth in her eyes and her smile as she stands up to greet him, that Jared recognizes her instantly. 

“You’re Allison Mack!”

Allison grins wider, just as Jared notices Welling sit up straighter. Awesome, so he might be straight (like Jensen promised him) after all.

“I sure am! It’s so nice to finally meet you Mr. Padalecki.”

He smiles back. “It’s Jared. I don’t know how to thank you for – well, everything.”

She brushes it away so quickly it makes his head spin. Jensen positions his wheelchair close to the table that’s laid out with a wondrous spread that consists of pancakes and waffles, bacon and eggs and tater tots, toast and fruit and coffee and cereal and…

“Holy shit. Is this your usual breakfast? Like, every day?”

Jensen chuckles warmly, “Only for you, big guy.”

Jensen wraps his arms around Jared from behind and plants a chaste kiss to Jared’s cheek, lingering long enough for Jared to get a titillating whiff of his cologne aftershave. For a moment it overwhelms every other aroma in the world and Jared forgets how starved he is. Once Jensen moves away Jared opens his eyes, only to realize his mouth has fallen open and the others in the room are staring right at him. He clamps his jaw shut, tight. Mr. Manners pretends he didn’t see anything as he goes about pouring him coffee. Allison winks and grins at him cheekily. Welling just looks constipated. 

He lets Jensen help fill his plate with a little bit of everything that looks edible, which is everything. Allie and Jared reach for the sugar at the same time and somehow that turns into an animated discussion on lollipops and candy canes. Jared can’t remember chatting so freely with anyone in a good long time. 

Meanwhile Jensen’s phone rings and he goes out to the attached balcony to receive the call. A minute later, he pokes his head back in through the glass door and calls Allison out. 

“Sorry, be right back.” She gets up, and Jared nods and smiles as he leaves. It’s probably something work-related of course, there’s just one problem. It leaves him alone inside, with Welling. 

Something’s clearly fucking with the gravity in the mansion, the damn tots refuse to go down his throat like they ought to. 

“So, big day huh?”

Jared looks up, right into Welling’s eyes no longer hidden behind black glasses. Baby blues. “I’m sorry?”

“Your appointment with Dr. Brown?”

“Right. Yeah. Big day.”

“Guess you won’t be needing the wheelchair then. Not after Sterling’s done with ya.”

Jared plays with his food, shuffling it around with a fork on his plate. “I guess.”

“So what are your plans? After you get back the use of your leg.”

“Uh…” Jared feels foolish, and small. He’s supposed to have a plan, that much is correct. Until three weeks ago it was to get through the night without getting beat up too much so he could show his face to his basketball class in the afternoons. What is it now?

“Let me rephrase. What else do you hope to get out of this…  _thing_  with Jensen? Besides medical and the cost of the surgeries?”

Ah. Jared lowers his eyes to his plate, not liking where this conversation is going. 

“You’re not planning to live off him for the rest of your life, are you? I get that this is probably the sweetest deal you ever landed. But you look like a smart kid, surely you have to know it’s not gonna last, right?”

Jared blinks back the hot sting of tears behind his eyes. “You think I’m using Jensen?”

Welling leans back into his chair, eyes still trained on Jared keenly. “I’m sure of it.” 

Jared turns it over in his head, once, twice. He isn’t shocked by the accusation, of course. Anyone would naturally jump to that very conclusion given his history. Hell if Jared himself could suspect Jensen’s intentions about this arrangement, is it really that surprising if Jensen were suspicious of Jared’s motives too? And if Jensen  _wasn’t_ suspicious - which he didn’t seem to be - why the hell not?

“Jensen’s the one who…”

“Save it, Padalecki. Surely the sex can’t be that good.”

Jared raises his eyebrows.  _Hello, professional?_  But honestly, he’s just glad Welling has the decency to not throw his past in his face, even when he’s trying so hard to make a forceful point. 

Welling spreads his hands out by his sides, the volume of his accusatory tone rising two notches. “What else could there possibly be? You’ve barely spent two days together so don’t even try to say that you love…”

“Tom?”

Welling halts mid-sentence and the hair on the back of Jared’s neck prickle as he realizes who just walked in on their little tête-à-tête. He stays deathly still until Jensen walks up to the table and stops beside his wheelchair. 

“What’s going on?”

Welling mirrors Jared’s nervous gulping action and crosses his arms against his chest. “Just talkin’. Nothing important.”

Jensen looks down at Jared who chooses that moment to contemplate the supremely critical concern of the hour: pancakes or waffles. Should probably take into consideration the multitude of syrups available but then again maybe he should stick to coffee ‘cause his stomach can’t bear the fucking indecision any more…

“Jared?”

Fuck. “Yes Jensen?”

Jensen sits beside him, waits for him to gather enough guts to look up into the older man’s face – a face that looks both hopeful and apprehensive, eager yet hesitant – Jared finds himself unable to look away. 

“Did you just tell Tommy that… you love me?”

Words were out of the question, not a squeak could escape his constricted throat right then. After what feels like centuries, Jared manages to shake his head curtly, once.

The face falls a little, but quickly recovers to bite his lip resolutely before glancing at Welling. Not finding a better answer there, Jensen turns back to Jared, hopeful once more. Seriously, nothing gets this man down, does it? 

“ _Do_  you?” 

Jared feels his eyes tearing up, but he’s unable to turn away. It’s such an unfair question he wants to say, scream at the top of his lungs because damn it of course he does! Even if it’s too soon to admit, even if there’s no explanation for it, even when he’s probably about to make another life-altering mistake but he can’t help how he feels. Jared does love Jensen, even though he doesn’t completely trust him yet.

The best defense is a good offence, right?

“Do  _you_?”

Seconds drag. Fact time seems to have come to a complete standstill, decidedly in no hurry to go anywhere. 

Someone coughs with careful deliberation, kick-starting all of existence back in gear again. It takes superhuman willpower to tear his eyes away from Jensen and towards Welling who is standing now, his hands buried in his pants’ pockets and looking around awkwardly. 

“You should make a move.”

_What?!?_

“I mean…” And now he blushes, all the snobbery from before gone as he quickly nods at the nearest wall clock. “Traffic’s a bitch at this hour so…”

Jensen glares at him before turning back to Jared again. “I apologize for Tommy’s behavior. I know he gets a little intense.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Jared waves it off, acutely aware that they’re talking about Welling who is still  _in_  the room. 

“I get it. He’s your Alan.” 

Both men stare at him for a long while, their faces identically unreadable. 

Eventually Jensen rises and picks his jacket up from the back of his chair. They reach the main door that opens up to the flight of stairs leading down to the street outside. This is where Jared is supposed to rise from his wheelchair and let Jensen support him out to the car. 

Except this time, there are two shoulders offered to him to lean on. 

Jared looks at Welling on his right, who in turn continues to look at everything and everywhere except at Jared. His full red lips are pursed into a thin pout and it makes Jared smile. 

As for the question he asked Jensen, Jared gets his answer at the end of the week.

 

***************  
***************

“Jenny, please just think about this.”

“I have, man. It’s all I’ve thought about for weeks. Please just back me up on this one, okay?”

“You know I always have your back. Even now when you’re about to prove yourself the greatest billionaire  _sucker_  on the planet.”

“Nice. Thanks!”

“Are you sure this isn’t just a byproduct of a guilty conscience?”

“Tommy.”

“Savior complex then.”

“Shut up.”

“What the fuck do you see in him anyway?”

“What the fuck do  _you_  see in Mack? How do you know she ain’t sleeping with you for a promotion or a big fat bonus?”

“That’s low, man. Even for you.”

“Please don’t tell Allie I said that.”

“Only if you promise me you won’t bring him back here from Chicago. It’s too soon for that Jen, and you know it.”

“Yeah well, let’s not the jump the gun here. I don’t even know if he feels the same way…”

“Dude, I know  _you_. You stop using your upstairs brain when it comes to dark-haired young things…”

“It’s not like that this time.”

“Oh yeah? How’s it different?”

“I… man, I don’t think I’m using my brains at all. Either one.”

“Exactly!”

“…”

“Oh. I just got that.”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, for the record, when this thing goes south, remember that I vehemently advised you against it.”

“Duly noted. Fortunately, I just keep you around for your dark hair and pretty face.”

“Fucker.”

 

***************  
***************

 

(tbc)


	7. Chapter 7

**Epilogue**   
  


***************

It’s ten months later, and he’s back at the Wolf Creek court. 

There’s twelve seconds left on the clock, the score is tied at sixty-two each and the home crowd’s going stir crazy because they haven’t given up hope yet. Not yet.

There’s Alan, and there’s him. A furious give-and-go across the court to the other side and suddenly the ball’s back in his hands. Four seconds left to spare. Jared bends his knees (both good knees) for leverage, jumps into the air from his spot at the three-point line, and lets it fly.

Kennedy High wins. The crowd is up on its feet and flocking down to the court. 

This is how it’s supposed to be. Forever and ever. The cheers echo into the cool San Antonio night, sharing their joyous victory with all his friends and loved ones. With Alan and Sandy, Chad and Sophia, Chase and Saleem and Bryan who doesn’t even like him so much but far as captains go he’s totally awesome. Justin too. 

And then Mom and Dad and Meg and Jeff, and Jensen are hopping down from the stands. And Jensen is grinning wide and proud, clapping his hands and looking at him with limitless adoration in his eyes. This is how it’s always going to be…

A new face suddenly emerges from the crowd and rushes towards him, with cold-blooded murder in his eyes and a large S-shaped knife in his hand.

“I warned you what would happen if you tried to leave me, didn’t I, babyface?”

No. “Spence…”

And there’s no time to run, no way to defend himself. In the very next instant, the knife is pulled back and driven straight towards his gut… but it’s not his flesh that’s pierced. Sebastian stabs Jensen in the liver just as he pushes himself between them, protecting Jared. 

He wakes up screaming Jensen’s name at the top of his hoarse, sleep-filled voice but it’s loud enough. The echo reaches back to his ears and jars him back to reality. He looks around wide-eyed, incredibly relieved to find himself not on a basketball court but on his own bed, in his own bedroom… his and Jensen’s bedroom, in their own home in Manhattan. 

And it’s bright as noon. Fuck. It  _is_  noon.

At the rumbling of furious running up the stairs he winces, bites his lip but it’s too late to take it back. Panic and terror from the nightmare quickly recedes, only to be replaced by red-hot embarrassment because seriously, he doesn’t wanna do this again. 

The door is jerked open. It’s Jensen skidding in first, followed by Megan, then Mackenzie, then Josh and then Tom together with Allison. 

“What happened?”

“Do you need water?”

“Get him a glass of water.”

“Jared, sweetie… you okay?”

He tries. “I’m fine…”

“Of course he’s not okay! Does he look okay?”

“Just a nightmare, it wasn’t real sweetie…”

“Stop patronizing him, he  _knows_  it’s only a nightmare.”

He tries again. “Guys…”

“Told ya not to give him that fourth shot of tequila.”

“Oh so it’s my fault now? Who shoved the lime in his hand and dared him to…” 

“Where’s the water? Who’s gone to get the water?”

“GUYS!!”

Everyone shuts up and turns to him at once. If Jared weren’t still shaken up, he would have found it hilarious. Their concern (read: complete lack of tact) is humbling, really, but it’s too much. 

“Can I talk to my boyfriend, please? Alone?”

Jared resists rolling his eyes and shaking his head as his family and friends blink, frown, glare at each other before mumbling quick apologies and grudging assents and finally clear out. Everyone except Jensen. 

The door closes and he climbs into the bed besides Jared. Puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, frowning with deep concern. “Sorry ‘bout that. I think everyone just freaked ‘cause you haven’t had a nightmare in three months and…”

Jared nods vaguely, rubbing an eye with his left hand’s knuckles.

“You okay, baby?”

He lets himself be engulfed in Jensen’s arms then, buries his face in Jensen’s neck and closes his eyes against the gory images. Feels his lover rubbing his back with a steady hand and it calms him down. 

“It’s that news about Spence, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t even need to nod. Jensen buries a hand in the back of his hair, kisses the side of his face. Jared wishes some of Jensen’s strength could seep into him through skin osmosis or something. The dark shadows of his time spent in Jersey have receded considerably, what with all the stupid therapy his boyfriend keeps checking him into. At least Jensen goes to the sessions  _with_  him, which means more time to spend together, hence the lack of complaining. But the news of Spence’s murder at the maximum-security prison he was serving out his sentence at has expectedly stirred up old wounds. 

“He stabbed you.”

Jensen holds him tighter, softly stroking Jared’s hair. “He’s dead, baby. Now unless you believe in supernatural ghost shit, which I don’t, he’s not coming back. Ever.” 

“I know, just…” He sighs, bites his lip. This is so stupid. Even dead, the man wields a certain power over him and he hates it. “I’m so sorry about this.” 

“Shut up.” 

He laughs then, turns his face and demands a kiss, which Jensen quickly supplies. Jared blankets himself in the exhilarating taste and scent of his boyfriend that’s so uniquely Jensen. He relaxes, lick by lick, entwines his tongue around Jensen’s and together they roll, slip and slide against each other in a passionate dance that lasts forever. Someone moans, and Jensen starts to push him back into the bed, sprawling between the hundreds and hundreds of pillows. Minimalist Ackles may be, but Jared sure as hell ain’t.

Jensen peels the sheet away that divides them, and that’s when Jared notices he’s wearing nothing but a short yellow t-shirt, the one Jensen was wearing last night. He blushes and laughs at the same time. 

“Wait, the door!”

“Relax, no one wants to get traumatized by live gay porn. They all know what we do in here.”

Jared laughs, falls back against the cushions as Jensen pulls his own shirt and undershirt off. 

“What are Tom and Allison doing here?”

“They never left. It was six AM by the time the party wrapped up so I made them stay in the guestroom downstairs.”

He kicks off his shoes and gets comfortable between Jared’s spread legs, fondling his privates with casual familiarity, just the way Jared likes it. 

“We were going over last minute details for tomorrow’s conference. It’s gonna be so awesome.”

Jensen looks so excited. Jared winces; butterflies on acid infest his empty stomach with a vengeance because tomorrow’s the big day. Bigger than anything he’s ever seen before. Hell, bigger than the big game. It’s why all their siblings are visiting. Jeff is flying down tonight and the parents will be in tomorrow morning all the way from San Antonio and Dallas, and…

“Stop it, baby. You’re over-thinking it again.”

“I can’t help it. I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

Jensen kisses him softly. “You won’t.”

And before Jared can argue back with a predictable ‘how do you know that?’ Jensen captures his mouth again, one hand massaging his protruding hipbones as another continues to stoke his erection. Jared moans, surrendering happily to the deliberate distraction and spreads his legs wider as he winds his arms around Jensen’s neck. 

Jared’s put on some much needed weight at last, mostly because Jensen won’t let him skip a meal and because he loves to indulge his young lover’s every whim and fancy, all of which seem to lately center around two things – chocolate and steak. Not together of course, ‘cause that would be gross. At least his ribs don’t show anymore, and his abs are getting harder, still nowhere near what they used to be back in high school, but close. 

Jensen breaks the kiss to lave his nipples, chewing at one avidly and Jared practically whines. “Ah, Jen?”

“Yeah, babe.” He manages to speak with his lips still stuck to the pebbled nub on Jared’s chest.

“Want that sweet mouth of yours wrapped around my dick.  _Now_.”

The older man stills, and then grins. That playful lusting look in Jensen’s eyes will be the death of him some day. Jared closes his eyes as Jensen glides downwards, vaguely musing not for the first time that maybe Jensen missed his calling – he could have been hot property with that talented mouth of his in the escorts business. 

Jensen doesn’t waste any time and deep throats him in one go, pressing the flat of his tongue against the thick vein in the underside and swirling it around the head on his way up. Jared whimpers and thrashes as Jensen closes a fist around the base while moving his mouth up and down his length, sucking away to glory. At last, Jared can’t hold it anymore, giving in to a series of violent spasms that wrack his body from head to toe when he comes. 

“Oh! Oh God…”

Guess Jared whites out for a bit, because the next time he opens his eyes they’re back under the covers, strong arms holding him tight against someone’s chest. Jared stretches sleepily, happy to stay within the confines of Jensen’s arms forever, feeling content and tranquil at last. 

“Jen, don’t you wanna…?”

Jensen laughs. “Aren’t you still sore from this morning, baby?”

Jared bites a grin back as he butts his head into Jensen’s chin. Sure he’s sore but in a good way, the way he likes it. Amazing how aware Jared’s become of all sensations big and small, in all other parts of his body now that his knee is not in constant pain anymore. 

Now that he doesn’t actively block out what’s being done to his body anymore.

“Besides, I need you to rest up a couple more hours before your physical therapy this afternoon. Or both Jeff and Sterling will have my head for making you party all night and disrupting your schedule again.”

“That’s bull. You don’t  _make_  me do anything.”

“Yeah, you tell  _them_  that, kiddo. Now go to sleep.”

Jared snorts, never did learn to say no to the man after all. But then again, ever since Jared moved in, Jensen’s hardly ever said no to him either. 

Jensen presses his lips to the top of Jared’s head and continues to rub his back gently, patiently, until he drifts away. He’s not awake to see Jensen tuck him in, plant another soft kiss on the mole by his nose, then quietly gather his shirts and slip back into his office where Tom and Allison are (most definitely  _not_  making out) waiting for him. 

**

Monday morning rolls in, and everyone’s stone cold sober and serious again. They organize the press conference at the offices of Achilles News Corp in the heart of Manhattan. Wall Street’s only a couple blocks away and needless to say, the event is being watched very closely by investors and analysts alike. 

Jared paces inside a breakout room next to the conference hall. The limp is hardly noticeable, although it gets that way after a few hours of strain so he needs to take it easy. But right about now he’s freaking out bad and pacing seems to be helping. Somewhat.

He fidgets with his necktie and cufflinks for want of keeping his hands busy. Feels like an eight-year old, sulking and uncomfortable wearing a tux for the first time in, what, five years? But that’s the least of his worries right now. 

Someone walks in on him and from the sound of the steady measured footsteps he knows who it is, but he doesn’t look up. 

“If you tell me to relax one more time…”

“ _Relaaaaax_.”

Jared stops pacing and sneers, and Jensen makes his cutest ‘resist me, I dare ya’ puppy-dog face that isn’t as effective as his own but damn it, it’s pretty darn close. He turns away shaking his head in exasperation. Jensen calmly takes his elbow, twirling him around and into arms that Jared knows won’t let go until he caves. So he sighs and nestles in instead, careful not to crumple the suit. And just as he’s about to get comfortable, Tom walks in with the dreaded announcement.

“It’s time.”

Jensen pulls back, fixes Jared’s tie absently. “Alright. You’re gonna be fine. There’s nothing to worry about, okay? Trust me.”

Trust Jensen, of course. Always. But how can Jensen trust  _him_  so implicitly?

“Just keep your notes in front you, you got ‘em?”

He pats his jacket pocket and nods sullenly.

“Got any candy on you?”

Jared does a double take at Jensen’s question. “What?”

“Tommy, give him your M&Ms.”

Tom actually whines, like a four-year old. “Dude, c’mon!” 

Jared looks from one man to the next. “I don’t want his M&Ms.”

“Yes you do, sweetheart. Tom uses them all the time. The sugar rush makes you forget your nerves when you go out there, it’s like paper clips…”

“Huh?”

Jensen frowns at him. “You never saw Maid in…? Never mind. Tom, you’re not addressing today.”

The Vice President actually pouts, adorably at that. “It’s a press conference, Ackles. You never know.”

Reluctantly he digs out two small packets anyway, one peanut and the other mint crisp, flings them at Jared who catches them automatically against his chest, still gawking at the handsome man. Tom ‘never a hair out of place’ Welling has trouble public speaking? Tom, who everyone at work secretly calls Superman ‘cause he’s so fucking perfect and in-control all the time? Tom, who once threatened him with bodily harm if he ever hurt his best friend Jensen?

Jensen claps suddenly, and puts a hand in the small of Jared’s back. “Alright, we’re good. Let’s get out there and have some fun, okay?”

Jared inhales deeply and attempts to walk off in a hurry, alone, but Jensen reaches out to grab his right hand. 

And just like that, hand in hand, they walk out to face the world. 

Even after ten months, the flashes don’t stop for the longest time. You’d think they’d be sick and tired of the whole bisexual CEO and his ex-prostitute partner story by now, but clearly not. It’s the award-winning news feature of the year, the outrage of the decade. It’s the true love story that didn’t have to end tragically to make it to the Pulitzers. 

It’s a story of the love that prompted a major Achilles sting operation and brought down one of the largest and most sadistic prostitution rackets to have ever been run across the East Coast. Movie rights just got sold to Universal, so it’s not like Allie  _needs_  to work for Ackles anymore, really.

It's the story of two ordinary men that fate brought together, but their extraordinary ability to love without judging, to overlook the superficial layers of men and discover the  _true_  person beneath, is what keeps them together. Now and forever.

Everyone that matters to Jared is there – all his friends, old and new, his family and Jensen’s family. Press reps from every major news channel from all over the world quickly organize themselves as Achilles rises to take center stage. 

Jared takes his seat on the dais next to Tom and the other board members, while Jensen walks up to the microphone. Jared knows his boyfriend doesn’t enjoy being in the limelight any more than he does, but it comes to Jensen naturally. A sudden hush descends. Jensen hasn’t spoken a word yet and already everyone’s hooked.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming. This meeting has been convened by the board of Achilles News Corp to make an important company announcement.”

His deep baritone voice booms over the speakers, pleasant and inviting, and somehow still manages to sound commanding. Jared gulps but tries hard not to let it show. His mom, Sharon, smiles encouragingly at him from the side. 

“At Achilles, we believe in the pursuit of truth, and upholding the basic human right of every citizen of, not just the United States, but the world, to be informed of the truth. Every day we strive to do just that – bring to you the hard facts and nothing but the facts, via the unbiased and completely transparent media of ANC television channels, publications and Internet media networks.”

Jared breathes deeply, still struggling to compose himself. Catches Jeff’s eye and his brother winks, much like he did from the bleachers the night of the final game, just before the big tip-off.

“We’ve been in the business of communication for only a few years. But our experience as individuals living, and often struggling to live in this diverse American society, has taught us one very crucial lesson – and that is the importance of being able to communicate with each other. The ability to  _talk_  to someone when we need help, the ability to reach out to people who might need  _our_  help – it all starts with putting in place those basic bridges of trust within easy access of everyone in the community. And you know it’s tough - building that trust, a whole lot tougher than reporting live from Baghdad, I can guarantee you that.”

A few smiles and agreeing nods greet the adlib. Everyone in the business is aware of Ackles’ stint in Iraq, the man knows what he is talking about. Jensen swallows stiffly and waits, letting the suspense build.

“So ladies and gentlemen, it is with the same spirit of integrity, and dedication to communication not just across the seven seas but also amongst ourselves, that I introduce to you, the Achilles Corporate Citizenship programme.”

The curtain is pulled back and the presentation finally comes into view. Jensen turns to it briefly as cameras flash and applause greets him once again. “You could call it our humble attempt to give back. And our first project as part of this effort is what we’re here to talk about.”

Jared wants to pull his tie off, but knows he can’t. Jensen spent an extraordinary amount of time to get it just right. 

“We asked ourselves, what is it that Achilles is really good at? And how can we leverage it to benefit the lives of the people that we touch every single day? The answer - I wish I could tell you I was the one who came up with it. Unfortunately that credit doesn’t belong to me. So without further delay, I’ll hand it over to our brand new Programme director, whose brilliant vision and stewardship have brought this great initiative to life.”

What the…?

“Jared Padalecki.”

The flashes break out once again, the room echoes with applause he doesn’t think he deserves. Programme Director? Way to go, Ackles. Perfect timing to spring more shocks to his system unbalanced as it is. He manages to rise.

This is it. 

Amidst an ovation that takes much longer to die out than it did for Jensen, Jared takes his place at the transparent glass podium. Puts his notes in front of him and clears his throat. When Jared looks up, the glare of the cameras blinds him momentarily and he winces. He can see the expectant faces, the curious glances, and the unconditional support on the faces of his family and friends. 

He turns once, sideways, to look at Jensen, who seems to be so completely  _unworried_  and God he’s so grateful. But he’s also scared. Feels like the words have shriveled up on his tongue and his mouth feels dry. Should have tried the M&Ms after all…

As a couple seconds of silence tick away, sounds of awkward shifting can be heard from the audience and he swallows again. Just then, a movement at the main door catches his eye. Jared watches as a soberly dressed couple quietly slips into the conference hall. They’re in their forties but their faces lined with loss and reconciliation make them seem older. And when they look up at Jared - the very purpose of this moment, this day, and of his very life, becomes summarily clear. 

Jared always dreaded going back to San Antonio, thinking that having to face Alan’s parents would maybe break him in the worst way possible. He was so wrong. The amazing kindness in Mrs. Cohen’s eyes gives him the strength he couldn’t find before, and he exhales all his hesitation out into the microphone. 

“I’m sorry, the whole ‘programme director’ title kind of… threw me.”

Tries to laugh, breaks out the (notorious) dimples and surprisingly it works. Everyone smiles back at him. Maybe he can do this after all.

“Imagine a seventeen year old kid who loses both his best friend and his dreams for a future in a terrible road accident.”

The cameras stop flashing.

“The shock and the trauma, and the guilt from the incident is so immense that he runs away from home to escape it. But the demons give chase, haunt his days and nights wherever he goes and so he just keeps on running, until he finds himself where he doesn’t really want to be. Surrounded by bad elements and unhealthy influences, the kid doesn’t stand a chance, and he keeps losing his faith and all his self-esteem, until he’s nothing but an empty shell of the person he once used to be.”

There’s pin-drop silence in the room. No one needs to be told whose story is being recounted in this forum today. 

“But hope as they say, springs eternal. If this kid gets the support he needs in time, maybe he can still be saved. If only he knew who he could talk to for help when he’s ready to accept it, or if a well-wisher finds him and works with him to pull his life together then maybe, just maybe, the kid won’t end up shooting meth into his veins, prostituting himself for a day’s meal, or maybe something worse.”

Jared looks down at his notes and bites his lip to stop its trembling. 

“I was fortunate. I found the help I needed, under the strangest and one-in-a-million kind of circumstances that y’all have heard more than enough of.”

They smile and nod oh-so-sagely. Fact is, nobody actually knows of the Mayflower encounter or of Morgan’s involvement (no way in hell is Jensen letting that sonofabitch get any leverage out of this). Only that the men met  _somewhere_ , and it was love at first sight. 

“But most kids aren’t so lucky, boys and girls alike. For your information, in the United States, over one point five million minors ran away from home or were thrown out of their homes in the last year alone. The number of kids above that age is way, way higher. Unimaginably so.”

A wave of audible gasps washes over the length and breadth of the room.

“It’s true. This is the future of our country, ladies and gentlemen, wasting away on the streets of America. Unfortunately there’s only so much the Youth Services Bureaus, with their limited government focus and funding, can do. We’ve spoken to them and they’re more than willing to let us lend a helping hand. And so, ladies and gentlemen, it is with great hope and humility that I’d like to introduce - the Alan Cohen Foundation for Street Youth and Families.”

A new presentation slide emerges on the screen behind him and the cameras start whirring again. 

“An initial funding of ten million dollars has been organized, which will help set up Street Outreach centers in all major towns and cities in the country. These centers will provide for the immediate needs of runaways like food, shelter, clothing and medical care. Achilles will leverage its contacts to provide the best legal aid available, and access to drug rehabilitation clinics for as long as they need. Social and psychiatric counselors will be contracted to work with every kid individually.”

Jared pauses, letting the information sink in just like Jensen taught him.

“Now some of these kids may not have a home to return to anymore. The Alan Cohen Foundation is more than happy to provide for full school and college scholarships to kids who show keen interest in pursuing their education, or get them decent paying jobs and homes in safe residential areas. For kids who do have a home and loved ones to return to, the counselors will do their best to unite them with their families.”

Jared’s confidence grows with every word that leaves his mouth. He’s worked on this for weeks, tried to cover as much ground and close as many loopholes as possible. He hopes Alan would be proud. His parents are smiling, that’s a good sign.

“The centers will also act as Go-to’s for families who’re looking for their children who’ve run away from home. Our law and order system does the best it can, but sometimes if the kids cross the legal age limit, there’s really nothing the cops can do. Achilles will use its cross-country network and expertise to assist families in locating their kids, getting everyone together and stage the necessary interventions…”

He discusses his plans for another few minutes, simultaneously running the presentation behind him with ease. Spots the proud look on Jensen’s face from a corner of his eye and it makes him smile. At the end, he opens the forum for questions, and there are a lot of them. 

“Mr. Padalecki, when you do plan to open your first outreach centers and where?”

“The first three go operational next month. We’ll start with Brooklyn and Queens, spread out across New York and New Jersey, and by end of the year we’ll have covered the entire East Coast. We also have a couple of big fundraiser events coming up that you’ll be kept informed about.”

“Mr. Padalecki! Over here!”

“Yes, Miss Gamble.”

“First of all, congratulations. The Alan Cohen Foundation seems to have its roots based in strong convictions and a well-thought strategy, not to mention the deep pockets of Achilles News Corp.”

He softly smiles. “High time we put those deep pockets to good use, don’t you think, Miss Gamble?”

Everyone chuckles again. The journalist from CNN continues. 

“Yes, I suppose that’s true. Mr. Padalecki, this question is slightly off-topic. But it’s such an interesting coincidence that only last week, Sebastian Spence was stabbed to death in New Jersey State Prison. What is your reaction?”

He struggles not to look at Jensen then. Jared learnt from the very best after all, how to keep a straight face and not give anything personal away. Better yet, how to use humor as a deflecting mechanism.

“Part of me thinks of it as poetic justice. And it’s the same part that eight months ago, was happy to hear about how Jensen went to see him in jail and punched him from across the table, breaking his nose in two places.”

Everyone laughs again. Then he sobers them up.

“But there’s a bigger part of me that wants to believe that nobody is above redemption. Because the fact is, a lot of these kids we want to help, Miss Gamble? They’re not going to be that innocent or untouched by the time this world is done with them, or by the time we get to them. A lot of these kids would have to learn to forgive themselves, before they can reclaim their lives. I’m sorry Spence did not get the chance to repent for his crimes, heinous as they were.”

The nods are softer this time, more sympathetic. There is no way for them to know that he’s also thinking of Hartley, serving out his sentence for underage DUI manslaughter in Huntsville. 

The questions eventually turn to Jensen and Tom as they join him at the podium. He uses the break to turn back to the bunch of people there exclusively to cheer for him. Danneel stands leaning against her husband, Dr. Sterling Brown, who holds her like she’s something precious. She waves at Jared and Sterling nods and he just wants to crush them both in his giant embrace. He doesn’t think he could ever thank Dr. Brown enough for getting him out of the wheelchair. 

His friends from high school, Chad and Sophia made the trip all the way from Carolina and he’s glad to see them. Allie and Mackenzie are giggling like a couple of schoolgirls and Jared discretely checks to make sure his fly isn’t open (again). Megan is busy flirting with Josh, which he isn’t too sure about ‘cause Jensen’s big bro is eleven years older to his little sis but then again, odder couples have made it. Hell,  _Jared_  should know. 

Jeff beams up at him, the immense pride and love evident in his face even from this distance. His parents are there, and Jensen’s parents are there and they’re actually getting along, or so it would seem from this distance, which is good enough for now. 

Alan’s folks have eyes for no one but him, and it makes him want to cry a little but he needs to be strong, because this isn’t over yet. 

“Mr. Padalecki, do you intend to have recreational facilities at these Outreach centers? Like basketball courts, maybe?”

Jared smiles, his gaze flickering back to the Cohens as he responds. “Of course! If my friend Alan were here, that’s the first thing he’d want to put in at the centers.”

“Mr. Ackles, do you have any plans to bid for any of the Morgan Media divestitures?”

“Well, no.”

Jensen always does that, answering questions as succinctly as possible without rambling on and on about irrelevant details. It’s not something the press is used to and it amuses them to no end.

“But considering there was a time Achilles and Morgan were bitter arch rivals, and now that Morgan is not doing so well, it’s surprising that Achilles is unwilling to cash in on the opportunity presented?”

“Miss Gamble, I have nothing personal against Mr. Morgan. On the contrary, I’m actually kinda grateful to him in a twisted sort of way, and he knows why.”

Jared bites back his grin, as do Tom and Allie.

“It’s unfortunate that Morgan House stands on the verge of bankruptcy today. They’ve had a long run and leave behind a legacy of publications they can be proud of. But truth be told, we don’t share any synergies with the Morgan portfolio. In other words…”

Jensen grins impishly. “The only Morgan products making any profits are the skin mags. And we don’t swing that way, you know that!”

The audience sniggers, no wonder they love him. The back-and-forth carries on for a few more minutes until Tom calls to wrap it up. 

When it’s time to leave, Jensen does what he’s done every time they’ve stepped out in public. He walks over to where Jared stands and brings his mouth close to his, completely unaffected by the ensuing chaos around them. Everyone in possession of a camera or a microphone seems to go wild almost at once, falling over each other to capture this sensational ‘Stop the Presses’ moment like it’d never happen again. 

Like the sky himself is bending down to whisper sweet nothings in his beloved earth’s ear. 

The sharp tingling warmth that caresses his knuckles is familiar yet surprising to him every single day. A part of Jared doesn’t want to get used to this. Doesn’t want to get complacent because damn it he doesn’t know if he could ever survive, being shipwrecked again. 

“Ready to go, Jare’?”

The voice is kind, and unpretentiously mischievous. As if promising a great new adventure if Jared would just take his hand and come along for the ride. It’s a promise of absolute security in the midst of reckless abandon, and somehow, it succeeds in pushing all his fears and doubts away. 

Jared smiles, bright and wide and uninhibited. His nod is perceptible only to Jensen, who then takes Jared’s hand and holds on like his life depended on it. They don’t care if the world is ready to accept them yet, they don’t care if it ever will. 

Quietly, gracefully, Jensen leads him out of the conference room, leaving the glare of the spotlights behind. 

 

******* FIN ********

**A/N: Pls let me know what you think?**   



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